Light in the Darkness
by sakurazukamori
Summary: The time for retribution has begun. Can Severus Snape find salvation before his time finally runs out? And what of the eerily mysterious room that has appeared within Hogwarts? Can Harry Potter and the gang unravel its meaning before it's too late? SSxOC
1. The Hunter

_This is the first chapter of 'Light in the Darkness.' I have gone through the first three chapters of this fanfiction and attempted to correct certain grammatical and spelling mistakes. I do not own any of the characters. Characters and devices are copyrighted to J.K Rowling. Scenario that follows is conceived from my imagination…sick as it may be _

**.:Light in the Darkness:.  
**.:Chapter 1:.

The cool water splashed against the angular face of Lucius Malfoy as he stood underneath the bewitched shower head. He felt the water cascade down his back, clinging to his blonde locks as he looked down at his left forearm; the Dark Mark was still faintly present underneath his pale skin. His fingers traced the outline of the skull, working their way around the snake that slithered out of the skull's redundant mouth. This was the Mark that unified all of them, himself, his fellow Deatheaters… and _him_.

"Finite incantato," he muttered, watching whilst the water ceased to flow from the shower head.

He grabbed a towel, wrapping it about his slim waist; beads of water still clung to his hair eventually trickling down the curves of his defined muscles. Sighing, he sauntered over to the silver, serpentine styled mirror, the cold stone floor chilling the soles of his feet as he went. The grey mist that swirled about the emerald-encrusted mirror cleared, revealing his cold reflection. His hair hung about his shoulders in wet strands, his piercing dark eyes contrasted against the pale canvas on which they were set. A slight smile appeared on the wizard's pink lips. Turning from the mirror, he grabbed the silk robe hanging from the dragon's claw that lay embedded in the dark wood of the mahogany door and walked into the master bedroom.

The room was covered in ancient black velvet drapes and deep green satin throws each bearing the Malfoy Crest: two silver snakes entwined around an ornate emerald dagger. On each wall golden framed portraits hung, ancestors of the Malfoy Family, each distinguished by their platinum blonde hair and dark, deep set eyes. The wizard paced across the room, watching as each portrait turned to face him, each one nodding in respect to the current patriarch of the infamous Malfoy family. Smiling, he loosened his towel allowing it to fall to the cold slate ground below him, revealing the taut abdomen and buttocks that lay concealed beneath it. The subdued candlelight that lit the room from sconces and candelabras, cast shadows on the nude physique of the dark wizard, enhancing the natural contours of his body whilst bringing to life the Dark Mark that lay embedded on his forearm.

"Soon," he whispered to the air. "Soon."

* * *

His black robe billowed out behind him, as the Potions Master paced along the dark corridors, descending down a flight of stone steps to reach his dungeon. Professor Severus Snape scowled as he saw the rag-tag group of first years he had the unfortunate pleasure of teaching; a mixed bunch of students from Gryffindor and his own house, Slytherin. His eyes narrowed as they fell upon three dim looking Slytherins whose robes were covered in a rather stubborn green substance. He glared at them with admonishment as their attempts at removing the matter remained fruitless. No doubt they were victims to either the childish nature of Peeves or the delinquent delights of the Weasley twins.

"Ten points from Gryffindor," he callously muttered under his breath.

"Silence!" he shouted, as he walked past the chattering group of pupils who fell quiet when they heard Snape's harsh tones. "I do not tolerate insolence, you would all do well to remember that," snarled Snape as he led the class into the dark oppressive depths of his classroom.

Pulling his dark robes about his slim frame, Snape eyed each one of his students as they unpacked their cauldrons and unravelled their parchment. He was seething that he still had not been offered the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, and that he was still confined to his dungeon teaching the complex art of potion-making to a class of pubescent numbskulls.

"I do not expect that many of you will understand… no, _comprehend_ the study of potion-making," began the dark haired Professor slowly. "However, I expect that _some_ of you," he continued, shooting a glance at the Slytherins, "…will prove me wrong… unlikely though it may seem." The words came from his mouth as if spoken a thousand times before.

The class remained transfixed by fear as Snape began writing up the ingredients needed for a basic sleeping draught, reminding them that he would be testing their own potions on them at the end of the class.

"Let me remind you," frowned the Professor, "one drop too much of chimera blood and your potion will, in some cases, become a fatal … BYRNE! Did I say _SPEAK!"_ He hissed.

His index finger was pointed at a mousey haired Gryffindor in the front row, who had made the foolish mistake of whispering whilst Snape was talking. Snape's dark eyes were unwaveringly fixed upon the dumbstruck boy who stood shaking before him.

"Tell me _Byrne_," he whispered, quietly, dangerously. "What did I say to the class before this lesson began?"

The Gryffindor had turned a deathly shade of white, his bottom lip trembling.

"Y-y-y-ou said that y-you would not tolerate insolence, Sir," stammered the young Gryffindor.

"Well, it seems to me that we have someone who thinks they are… _above_ my rules, haven't we?" announced Snape, over the snickering laughter of the Slytherins. "Another Harry Potter, I fear."

"N-n-o, S-sir," stuttered Byrne.

"No?" challenged the Potions teacher, leering at the trembling Gryffindor. "Then perhaps, Byrne, you would like to explain to me what was more important than listening to my instructions, hm?"

"N-n-nothing, Professor," replied the boy.

"Nothing, you say? I see…" snarled Snape, his lip curling. "Well then, I think twenty points from Gryffindor for Mr. Byrne's neglect of my rules and a further ten points for his apparent _...inability_ to tell the truth. Sit down."

The Gryffindor sat down trembling, tears welling in his eyes.

"Be ready to present your potions for grading in five minutes," snapped Snape, as he turned around returning to his worn desk, surprised to see a rolled up piece of parchment lying there.

Snape eyed the parchment and snatched it up, crushing it in his grasp.

"WHO PUT THIS ON MY DESK?" he shouted, his eyes darting from the young Gryffindor to the crumpled parchment in his hand.

His lips curled into a snarl as he read it, miming the words with his mouth.

_We were as one,_

_Underneath the Black Sun,_

_And with a change of heart,_

_We were apart,_

_The time has come, our finicky friend,_

_For us to meet and make amends._

Once the last word was read, the Professor's brows furrowed in disbelief as the words liquefied, trickling down the tattered parchment in a rainbow of shimmering colours. Snape felt the familiar tug of an invisible force, pulling him backwards in a whirlwind of swirling colours.

Severus felt his feet crash on to the solid stone floor beneath him.

"A portkey?" he muttered confusedly as he swayed slightly.

It began with a hushed whisper at first, growing louder, more distinct until Snape's ears were filled with the sound of cool laughter reverberating around him as he quickly sought to regain his bearings. As his sight slowly came back into focus, the source of the laughter was made abhorrently clear... Six or seven hooded shadows leered at him through the insidious darkness that surrounded him. Even though all that his eyes could distinguish were the sketchy outlines of the hooded heads, he knew exactly what and who they were…

"Deatheaters," he said in an almost whisper, his right hand instinctively moving towards his left forearm.

Their garish laughter metamorphosed in to one slight snigger as a dusty ray of light crept into the darkened room; it soon became clear to Snape that the hooded figures were nothing more than several faded portraits. Still shrouded in darkness with only a thin beam of light to see, Severus turned to what appeared to be the source of the light. He brought his hand up to face, shadowing his eyes. His eyes narrowed… all he could make out were the fingers of a gloved hand curled around the handle of the opening door.


	2. Straight To Hell

_I do not own any of the characters. Characters and devices are copyrighted to J.K Rowling. Scenario that follows is conceived from my imagination…sick as it may be.

* * *

_

.:Chapter 2:.

Professor Severus Snape squinted as the door continued to slowly open; the concealed hand had extended into an arm that was now attached to an equally obscured body. A barrage of light shone from the doorway, silhouetting the dark, imposing shadow that stood motionless in the doorframe. The unnatural light was blinding making it nigh on impossible for Snape to distinguish who, or what the shadow was… The only feature he could make out were a pair of impeccably polished dragon hide shoes, gleaming in the harsh light.

"Here at last," drawled an all too familiar voice. "I entrust my… little letter found you in good health?"

"You! You brought me here!" snarled Snape, reaching into his robes, searching for his wand. He knew the anonymous voice only too well.

"Now, now Severus," interjected the faceless voice confidently. "Surely, you wouldn't _threaten_ an old friend over a silly misunderstanding such as this?"

"You're no friend of mine," spat Snape furiously, his wand now clenched in his hand.

"Pity," came the sighed reply, followed by a soft snigger. "It may have been that it slipped your mind, Severus, but you see… our 'friendship' goes _much_ deeper than you seem to realise."

Snape felt his eyes impulsively glance down at his left forearm; the Dark Mark, though concealed by his heavy robes, now seemed more apparent to him than ever before.

"The ink that poisons my arm, no longer poisons my mind," said Snape as he glared into the dark silhouette.

"_Poison,_ Snape?" said the voice coolly. "Was it not this _poison_ that made you strong?"

The figure began to advance slowly, his polished shoes tapping against the glazed stone floor as he walked towards Snape's outstretched wand. With each step he took, light edged its way up his face, revealing a distinguished jaw line, angular cheekbones, cold, dark eyes, all encased within a frame of white-blonde hair. Snape's mouth twitched with anger as he saw the face of Lucius Malfoy approaching him, smiling smugly; he felt his grip further tightening on his ash wand when he realised that Lucius's chest was hard against the tip of his wand.

"Let us see how strong you are without the Dark Lord's power," smiled Malfoy wickedly.

With that, Lucius raised his hand from his side, removing his worn leather glove, carelessly discarding it on to the floor. He allowed his index finger to slowly trace the length of Snape's wand, gliding over the scratches and grooves that lay pitted in the wand's body, until it reached Snape's hand where it paused. Lucius' lips formed a sly smile as his finger continued gently along the pale, yet unnaturally smooth hand of Severus Snape who stood frozen in disbelief. The blonde Deatheater merely smirked at the bewildered expression; instead he turned his eyes towards his fingers which were now gliding past Snape's wrist, catching the hem of the Professor's dark robes, revealing the flesh that lay beneath. Snape grimaced as he felt the well manicured nails of Lucius Malfoy scrape against his exposed forearm, leaving behind a trail of broken skin.

The black robes of the Potions master continued to traitorously reveal more and more of his bare forearm until their betrayal halted. Lucius' cold eyes gleamed when they fell upon the faded remains of a black skull with hollow obsidian eyes, and an undulating serpent protruding from the skull's cavernous mouth. The Dark Mark, though faded, remained embedded underneath the sallow skin of the Hogwarts Professor.

"Well, well, what have we here?" taunted Lucius sarcastically, his finger nail tenderly tracing the remnants of Snape's tattoo over and over again.

The Dark Mark seemed to react to Lucius' touch; a ring of gold flame rose from the traced outline causing Snape to grit his teeth in pain.

"STOP IT, LUCIUS!" admonished Snape fiercely. "Are you insane!"

"You misunderstand me, Severus," smiled Lucius. "You seem to mistake my genius for insanity, very…_very_ foolish."

"ENOUGH OF THESE GAMES!" bellowed Snape irately, his face contorting into a pained snarl as the Mark on his arm began to twinge with a renewed ferocity.

"Games, Severus?" cackled Lucius, the Potion master's name sounding like a hiss from the Death Eater's mouth. "What kind of games would you have me play?"

A chorus of derisive laughter echoed around them, resounding off the dank walls; each portrait was laughing in unison at Snape's humiliation, their laughter growing louder, colder…

"SILENCE!" commanded Lucius, his eyes darting from portrait to portrait then finally back to the scowling Potions master who was clutching his left arm.

"You always were the weak one, Severus," began the Deatheater smoothly. "No different from the snivelling wretch you were at Hogwarts – unworthy of the Dark Lord's allegiance."

Snape looked bewildered, seemingly incapable of replying. Beads of sweat were now beginning to form on Snape's brow – the pain from the Mark was unbearable. With every word Lucius uttered, a new pain coursed through him…with every word, hazy memories from his concealed childhood began to surface; it were as if an unknown force were drawing the images from his subconscious; only Legilimency could produce such an effect, but Lucius was not using Legilimency…

"Painful, isn't it?" taunted Lucius. "All those _unwanted_ memories resurfacing… memories you so _desperately_ tried to hide."

The dark-haired Professor watched through a distorted vision, Lucius's face swelled and blurred, it was almost as though he was not speaking at all.

"What trickery?" blurted Snape; even with his expertise in the Dark Arts, this magic was unknown to him.

"I assure you, Severus, this is more than just trickery," he laughed. "Allow me to show you…"

"NO! _Impedi-"_

Lucius' right hand shot out grabbing Snape's left arm, his grip tightening around the spot where the Dark Mark lay. Snape recoiled in agony, his wand instantly dropping from his hand, clattering to the floor. The Deatheater's merciless eyes closed, a satisfied grin spread across his cruel mouth as he felt Snape's arm writhing beneath his grip, the Mark burning against his hand. A chilling laugh pierced the stagnant air, ringing in the Hogwarts Professor's ears.

Severus Snape's head flung back as an onslaught of horrifying memories consumed him. Each memory he had tried to purge himself of, every memory he had tried to suppress enveloped him… the jeering of his peers at Hogwarts, the sting of his father's belt against his bruised skin, the cold, sinister stare of the Dark Lord boring into his very being. His breath grew ragged and hoarse; the grip on his arm intensified causing pain anew to shoot through his arm… the memories grew more and more painful; he was cradling his mother's lifeless body in his arms, a look of horror on his tearstained face.

_No, mother…_

_Why? Why now?_

He was picking up her wand, raising it high above his head, ready to strike down the man who killed her, ready to have his revenge…

The heartless eyes of Lucius Malfoy opened to the sight of Professor Severus Snape squirming in his grasp, a torrent of broken conversation spilling from his mouth. Lucius had witnessed the memories Snape had, the Mark had shown him everything he needed to know, once again it had betrayed its exiled bearer.

The Deatheater sneered as he released his stranglehold grip on Snape's arm; he watched as the Potions master suddenly came to as if suddenly waking from a dream. A twinge of pain alerted Malfoy to his ungloved hand, as the wizard brought his hand closer to his face he snarled. His eyes fell upon a familiar image that lay seared into the palm of his hand. Lucius quickly returned his hand to his side, all the while continually observing the way Snape withdrew from him, staggering backwards in pain clasping at the Mark on his arm that continued to burn and seethe.

"Just look at you," jeered Lucius. "The way you _agonise_ over the Dark Lord's gift… you happen to remind me of someone. Can you guess who?"


	3. Crawling King Snake

_I do not own any of the characters. Characters and devices are copyrighted to J.K Rowling. Scenario that follows is conceived from my imagination…sick as it may be.

* * *

_

.:Chapter 3:.

The Hogwarts Professor stood, doubled up in agonising pain against the dank wall of the Malfoy Dungeon. His Dark Mark had been reawakened by the pale faced Deatheater that stood only feet away from his crumpled frame. Professor Severus Snape's mind was numb, numb with shock... numb with pain. Every memory he had tried to conceal was painfully made known to him once more; unfortunately, he was not the only one his memories were made known to.

"Yes, you're no better than that Potter boy." The blonde-haired wizard's voice was full of disgust, especially at the mention of Harry Potter – the boy who had foiled so many of his plans.

Lucius Malfoy's mouth curled into a disgruntled snarl when he thought of the Potter boy; he was like an infuriating fly that you just could not rid yourself of. No matter how many times you tried to kill it, it would continue to become an even greater nuisance than it was before. Unfortunately for Lucius, this fly happened to be more resilient than its meddlesome parents who had met their premature deaths at the hands of the Dark Lord. However, it would only be a matter of time before the accursed boy would meet the same ill-fated end...

"Indeed, no better at all," continued Lucius maliciously. "You are a disgrace to wizard kind; a filthy half-blood, it honestly disgusts me to even look at you."

A glare of pure repulsion flamed in Lucius' cold, unrelenting stare as he watched Snape, who stood muttering incoherently, his right hand still wrapped around his left forearm. The Deatheater's eyes narrowed dangerously...

"Tut, tut Severus, that incessant muttering wouldn't happen to be a counter curse now, would it?" challenged Lucius softly.

There came no reply. The dark haired Professor continued his incomprehensible mumbling without even a glance at the now seething countenance of the wizard that stood before him. Malfoy's face had contorted into a furious scowl; ignorance was something he could not tolerate especially from a wizard of lower standing than he.

"_How dare you!_" hissed Malfoy venomously. "How dare you show such _disrespect_!"

Within the blink of an eye, Lucius had sharply advanced on the muttering Professor, pinning him forcefully against the mildew coated wall, his pale hand clasped about Snape's throat. The Deatheater's cold eyes flashed with malice when he saw that the Professor would not meet his glare.

"You would think to ignore me, even now?"

Lucius brought his left hand to Snape's face, elegantly running a gloved finger along the Professor's prominent cheekbone, gliding down his cheek, eventually resting on his pale lips. A cruel yet seductive smile broke through the livid countenance of the dark wizard as he leant forward...

"Mark my words, half-blood," whispered Lucius dangerously, his breath burning against Snape's cheel. "Your ignorance will not go unpunished..."

* * *

"That must have been THE worst Divination lesson ever," grumbled Ron Weasley, his freckled nose wrinkling in disgust.

"Yeah, you're telling me," yawned a scruffy haired Harry Potter. "Come on, Hermione'll be waiting for us."

The two Gryffindors hurried down endless sandstone flights of stairs and through torch lit corridors until they reached the perpetually moving staircase that lay encased in a tall ivory tower. Harry and Ron carefully calculated their route to the Gryffindor Tower hopping from one staircase to another, swiftly traversing their way.

After a series of short runs and heart-stopping jumps, the two boys finally reached the thirteenth staircase that would take them safely to the Gryffindor Tower.

"Ahh," panted Ron thankfully. "Old faithful."

Harry simply smiled as they both casually walked up the staircase. The portraits on the wall smiled at them as they went; a rather podgy looking wizard wearing, what seemed to Harry, a party hat atop his head of thinning hair grinned idiotically.

"Hiii Haa-wee," spoke the wizard jovially. "Do you like my pwicture?"

The wizard pointed to a picture of a truly simple and childish scribble that sat on an easel next to him.

"Umm, yeah. It's, ah, great... really good," said Harry reservedly, his eyes darting around looking for a source of distraction; his gaze fell upon a somewhat wicked looking wizard with piercing green eyes.

"Odd," muttered Harry under his breath. "I thought that portrait was empty."

"He was one of the first of _their_ kind to be let in here," the green eyes of the portrait gestured over to the podgy wizard. "Filthy mudbloods polluting Slytherin's good name!" he screamed.

His sudden outburst caused many of the portraits to quiver in fear, including the chubby wizard who hid behind his scribbly canvas. The cruel mannered wizard looked over at Ron and Harry.

"Oh no, it wasn't like that in Slytherin's day," snarled the wizard angrily.

Ron and Harry looked at each other confusedly.

"I'm sorry, but um, what did you say?" asked Harry, puzzled.

"Didn't you know?" smiled the portrait slyly. "Professor... Lord Slytherin was this school's first Headmaster." The portraits in the tower cowered at the mention of Slytherin's name.

"Come on, we'll be late for Potions," Ron urged quietly.

"You're right, best hurry...don't want to be late for my next detention," grumbled Harry sarcastically. His eyes broke away from the portrait's cold, unsettling glare.

"It will only be a matter of time!" screeched the portrait unsettlingly. "The basilisk may have failed, but there will be other purges! SLYTHERIN'S WORK WILL BE FULFILLED!"

Ron and Harry looked at each other – a hint of fear lingering in their eyes. The Chamber of Secrets fiasco had hit both of them hard – Ron had nearly lost his sister, Harry had almost lost his life. Casting a final look over his shoulder at the man in the portrait, Harry made a mental note to find out who the man was.

The entrance to the Gryffindor corridor was in sight as Ron and Harry stepped on to the last step. Suddenly, the staircase beneath them began to shudder, dust flying up from the stone steps. Harry and Ron scrambled in panic for the sides of the staircase.

"Harry..." Ron whimpered, his eyes growing large.

The staircase swung out, heading towards the stone wall that lay on the other side of the tower. Both Ron and Harry exchanged nervous glances as the stone staircase came to a grinding halt, the dust settling on their robes. The two boys stood in front of the barren stone wall, there were no torches nearby so the wall was shadowed in darkness. A thousand questions ran through Harry's head: _Why had the staircase moved?_ _Why had it brought them to a brick wall?_

"Maybe," began Harry warily, "maybe the staircase will move back."

"Snape's gonna kill us," whined Ron. "We'll be in detention for the rest of our lives."

The prospect of lifelong detentions with Snape was a thought Harry did not relish, but at the moment his mind was more preoccupied with why the staircase had brought them to this stone wall. _Had it something to do with that cruel wizard who had told him about Slytherin?_ Harry sighed and began to run his hands along the rough brickwork; he was sure there was more to this wall than met the eye.

"_Lumos_," muttered Ron, his wand emitting a faint glow.

"Thanks Ron," Harry replied sincerely.

The light, though dim, allowed Harry to scan the wall for any peculiar patterns that could unravel this mystery. Both Harry and Ron continued to run their hands across the uneven surface of the sandstone, but there was nothing.

"This is pointless," sighed Ron. "Maybe someone will come find us...hopefully." The slightest hint of desperation could be heard in Ron's voice.

Harry Potter's eyes narrowed, for some reason the dark portrait's words resonated in his mind:_ "Professor...Lord Slytherin was this school's first Headmaster."_ Slytherin House - the serpent was their emblem. Inexplicably, Harry's hand began to trace out a serpentine line down the middle of the wall, his hand waving down the brickwork until he reached what felt like a raised bump.

"Ron, come take a look at th-"

Before he could finish his sentence, Harry felt himself physically fall through the solid stone wall, landing on his hands and knees, his robes covered in even more dust. He looked beside him and saw that Ron was in a similar state. Harry pulled himself to his feet, brushing down his robes.

"You alright there, Ron?" Harry offered Ron a hand, helping him to his feet.

"I'm fine, but... er, where are we?"

"No idea, but it doesn't look like anyone's been here for years."

The two Gryffindor's eyes darted around curiously, the darkness was overwhelming, Ron's wand made little difference. However, what they could distinguish was that they had fallen into a rather narrow corridor that led into a vast obscurity ahead of them. Harry reached inside his robes for his wand.

"_Lumos,_" spoke Harry, his wand tip glowing white.

Both boys held their wands in front of them as they made their way down the dark corridor. A deathly silence clung to the shadowy walls of the corridor; no sound could be heard except for the quiet swishing of robes and the ragged breaths of the two Gryffindors.

"I don't like this Harry," whispered Ron fearfully. "For the first time in my life, I'd rather be in Potions..."

"I think we're nearly at the end of the corridor," murmured Harry, gripping his wand tightly.

Harry heard Ron gulp softly as an arched doorway appeared from the shadows. The door was immense, constructed from black metal that lay set in an archway of veined marble. On closer inspection, a series of strange markings could be seen etched on to the vast door. Harry traced the outline of the markings – his eyes widened when he realised that they were of silver snakes, not dissimilar to the snake found on the Slytherin sigil. With Harry's touch, the snakes appeared to come alive, the silver glittering, illuminating in the darkness.

"Ron, the snakes," whispered Harry, as the engraved snakes turned to face him, their forked tongues hissing at him, "they're moving."

Ron's eyes grew wide; Harry was right, the snakes _were_ moving... in fact, it seemed as if the whole door was alive. The serpentine door handles and locks had all begun to slither and writhe, their heads turning to face the boy who had awoken them. They uncurled their tails from the wall releasing the door allowing it to swing open. Curiosity got the better of Harry as he pushed open the door further; it was surprisingly light considering its size. A wave of hushed laughter resonated from the door; Harry stopped and looked at the snakes.

"Ron, did you just hear that?" questioned Harry warily.

"Hear what?" Ron replied puzzled.

"Oh, forget it. I must be hearing things," gushed Harry, remembering that Ron couldn't understand the snake language, Parseltongue.

Ron shrugged, his gaze still fixed on the door.

"Come on," whispered Harry, his hand still firmly on the door.

The two Gryffindors pushed open the double doors; their eyes grew wide as they saw what lay inside...

* * *

A flash of black darted amongst the trees. Mud splashed under his foot as he ran. Branches whipped across the man's pale face. Dark robes flew out behind him as he ducked under vines and brambles. The sound of heavy panting breaths accompanied the snapping of bracken. Fire burned in the man's legs. He felt himself stagger forward, reaching for something to lean on. His hands grasped thin air as he fell forward.

His head throbbed as he lay gasping for breath on the mud-soaked ground. The cruel, malicious laughter of Lucius Malfoy rang clearly in his ears growing louder and louder, deafening him. The Deatheater's face appeared in his mind, over and over, an arrogant smirk emblazoned across his pale face, a pitiless gleam in his indigo eyes. In a moment of intense rage, the dark-haired wizard had flung himself on to his back, spraying out a mouthful of muddy water. His dark eyes widened when he saw the same heartless face he had seen in his mind leering over him, a thin hand reaching towards him... The wizard lashed out, frantically clawing at the blurring face of the pale haired wizard. His strength was rapidly failing him, as was his eyesight; everything around him blurred into one, his arm reached out to the fading face of Lucius Malfoy. However, Lucius Malfoy was no more; his face had been replaced by that of a young woman with startling green eyes.


	4. Strange Magic

_It's been a long time in coming, but here is Chapter 4 of "Light in the Darkness". I'm not too sure if anyone is actually reading this fanfiction anymore, but it's one I kinda enjoyed writing and wanted to come back to. Expect more updates soon! Characters copyrighted to J.K. Rowling.

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_

.:Chapter 4:.

Hermione Granger sat in the dark dungeon that was her Potions classroom. She had given up waiting in the Common Room for Harry and Ron – there would be no way she was going to get a detention because of their inability to get anywhere on time. For some reason Professor Snape was absent from the lesson and the class was substituted by the Bloody Baron who had a surprising knowledge of Potions considering he was dead. However, just like Snape he had the same annoying habit of favouring Slytherin house over all the others. Sighing, Hermione looked at the heavy doors to the classroom – even _they _wouldn't be stupid enough to miss Potions.

"Miss Granger, you would do well to pay attention to your cauldron instead of the doors," sneered the Bloody Baron as the contents of her cauldron bubbled onto the desk.

"Oh no!" exclaimed Hermione in horror.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for Miss Granger's inability to concentrate on her work," declared the Baron as he watched her struggle to stop her cauldron from overflowing anymore.

Sniggers rose from the Slytherins in the front row as they turned around to see her desk covered in a putrid green liquid. Neville Longbottom, who was sitting next to her, felt extremely sorry for Hermione – he was usually the one in that position.

"Here, I'll help you clean up," offered Neville quietly.

"Thanks Neville," Hermione replied, giving him a warm smile.

The Bloody Baron 'tutted' at them both and floated off muttering something about how all Gryffindors were the same...

* * *

Harry and Ron could not believe their eyes. The room looked exactly like Dumbledore's office, but had an extremely menacing feel to it. Everything was emblazoned with silver and green and too many snakes to even start counting.

"This must have been Slytherin's old office," whispered Harry to Ron, afraid he might wake something up if he spoke too loud.

"It's so... creepy," added Ron, pointing his wand to different corners of the room.

The furniture was covered in a thin layer of dust that had not been disturbed for what looked like centuries. Similarly to Dumbledore's office, there was an array of intricate, intriguing looking instruments. Although Harry had a feeling that these were not the kind of instruments one should be messing around with.

"Hermione'd know what these are," murmured Harry. "We should bring her up here."

"Umm, weren't we supposed to meet Hermione for Potions?" queried Ron, already knowing the answer.

"Well, Ron," replied Harry with a weak smile, "say hello to a lifetime's worth of detentions."

Harry could hear Ron gulp and make towards the door, his wand hanging limply at his side.

"Hang on, Ron!" exclaimed Harry as his eyes lay fixed on the ornate ebony desk that lay in the middle of the room. "Someone's been here... and recently by the looks of it."

Ron turned back round and noticed that there was a neat square of polished ebony; perhaps where a book had once lay. Fingerprints lay on either side of the faded square, disturbing the long settled dust. Both of them wondered silently who would have wanted to venture into this office, steal a book or some such artefact, and why it had been removed so recently.

"Come on, let's go. This place is giving me the creeps," whispered Ron, his eyes darting about him.

"Yeah, I know what you mean," replied Harry, his grip tightening on his wand.

They looked around the room one final time, making sure that they had not missed anything. Something tugged at the back of Harry's mind, making his hairs stand on end... he felt like they weren't alone, that something was watching them from the shadows. Harry felt a shudder run through him.

"You alright, Harry?" asked Ron, noticing Harry shiver.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," lied Harry. "Just someone walking over my grave, that's all."

"I wish you wouldn't say things like that," whimpered Ron, turning towards the exit.

Harry smiled at him and punched him gently on the arm. Something told him that this would not be the last time they would set foot in this place. Hermione definitely needed to see this, no doubt she had read about it in _Hogwarts: A History_. Her expertise would, without a doubt, come in handy.

* * *

Hermione was close to tears when she walked into the Gryffindor common room, her cheeks flushed red in something akin to shame. Neville walked in a little way behind her, a look of concern on his face.

"D-don't worry about it, Hermione," offered Neville, placing a hand gently on her shoulder.

"I'm fine," replied Hermione unconvincingly, sniffing loudly.

Neville rifled around in his robe pockets and withdrew a silken handkerchief in Gryffindor colours. Walking to her side, he handed Hermione the handkerchief with a sympathetic smile. Hermione looked up at him, tears forming in her eyes and accepted the handkerchief with a weak smile.

"T-hanks Neville," said Hermione, dabbing the corners of her eyes, thankful that it was only her, Neville and Dennis Creavey in the common room. "You won't-,"

"Of course, I won't," smiled Neville, shaking his head. "Well, I said I'd meet Ginny… Herbology help."

A rather deep shade of red rose to Neville's cheeks when he spoke about Ginny and Hermione smiled at him.

"You don't want to keep her waiting," she replied.

"No, she'd kill me if I was late," said Neville, a touch of trepidation clinging to his words. "Take care, Hermione."

"Oh, what about your handkerchief?" called Hermione as Neville was about to leave the common room.

"Keep it," smiled Neville before continuing on his way.

Hermione slumped down in her favourite armchair by the fire, opening her satchel and withdrawing the Potions homework the Bloody Baron had set them. After today's lesson, she just did not feel motivate to even attempt it; it would seem Crookshanks had cottoned on to this lack of motivation and leapt onto her lap. Running a hand absentmindedly over the cat's marmalade fur, Hermione felt her eyes lulling shut with the comforting sound of Crookshanks' purr and the warmth of the fire.

"Hermione!"

"Hermione, wake up!"

Hermione's chocolate eyes fluttered open to see Ron and Harry standing over her, a look of excitement plastered across their faces. She did not know how long she had been asleep, but quite awhile by the looks of things. The moon was high in the sky… she could have sworn she had fallen asleep at dusk.

"Where were you today?" asked Hermione, alert within seconds, sitting up straight. "The Bloody Baron has gone to McGonagall about your absence!"

Ron looked to Harry, the look of excitement soon leaving their faces.

"The Bloody Baron?" said Harry, his eyebrow arched. "What was the Bloody Baron doing teaching Potions?"

"Professor Snape was unable to attend," replied Hermione, "which strikes me as very odd. Professor Snape has never missed a lesson."

"Well, that's not quite true," came a small voice from the corner of the common room.

The trio looked over to see the slight form of a Gryffindor first year called Nathan Byrne. He was a rather unassuming student that rarely spoke to anyone aside from his close friend, Russell Lacroix. Seeing that he had the trio's attention, Byrne continued, his voice a little stronger now.

"We were having Potions yesterday," continued Byrne, venturing over to them a little. "Snape was in a foul mood-,"

"Not so different from usual then," smirked Ron, looking at Harry.

"Ssh!" hissed Hermione before gesturing for Nathan Byrne to continue.

"None of us had noticed it, but there was a scroll of paper on his desk," said Nathan. "He thought it was one of us who had put it there. He began reading it, but I couldn't make out what was written on it. All of sudden he disappeared!"

"A portkey," deducted Hermione as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Hogwarts is supposed to have protection against them… I'm sure of it."

"In _Hogwarts: A History_ no doubt," murmured Ron.

"Yes, and you would do well to read it, Ronald," reprimanded Hermione, removing the aforementioned tome from her bag.

"Bloody hell! Do you carry that with you wherever you go?" gasped Ron.

Hermione smiled at him sardonically and gestured for Harry to come closer. Watching Hermione flick through the book, Harry was reminded of what he wanted to ask her about Slytherin's office. However, before he got a chance to, Hermione had found her page and was reading what she had found out loud.

"The use and construction of unauthorised portkeys is forbidden within the grounds of Hogwarts," recited Hermione, her finger trailing along the page. "Any student or staff member found to have flouted these strictest of rules is liable to be dismissed or face disciplinary action from the Headmaster or Headmistress."

"Dumbledore must know about it," mused Harry, pushing the thoughts of portkeys aside. "Hermione, does that book contain anything Slytherin?"

"It's a history of Hogwarts, Harry," smiled Hermione, a condescension marking her words. "Of course it's going to have something about Slytherin in it."

Hermione shook her head and flicked to the index of the book. Ron's jaw dropped when he saw the sheer amount of pages detailing entries on Salazar Slytherin. Harry too was speechless, but regained his composure quicker than Ron.

"Anything about an office, or perhaps a room that Slytherin was fond of? Aside from the Chamber of Secrets," asked Harry, the mention of the Chamber of Secrets invoking painful memories… most of them pertaining to Ginny. Shaking his head, Harry looked imploringly at Hermione.

"Slytherin's office?" asked Hermione. "I can't say I can recall reading anything about it. Let me see."

Tracing her finger down the index pages, a frown began to crease Hermione's brow… it would seem she was unable to turn anything up.

"Wait," said Hermione. "I guess I was wrong."

"You mean there's mention of it?" asked Ron, moving a little closer to Hermione.

"I wonder why I hadn't noticed it before," mused Hermione.

"Can't fit everything into that head of yours," smiled Ron, shaking his head.

Hermione merely shot him another sarcastic smile; she began turning the pages, but stopped abruptly.

"You know you still haven't told me where you were this afternoon," said Hermione, looking at the two boys. "And why are you so curious about Slytherin all of a sudden?"

Harry and Ron looked at each other before divulging their tale about the adventure they had that afternoon. Ron elaborated on every detail Harry told Hermione, exaggerating certain aspects to the point of disbelief.

"So you think you found Salazar Slytherin's office?" replied Hermione when they had finished their tale. "And that portrait said that Slytherin was Hogwarts' first headmaster? Well, that's news to me."

"I can't think of anyone except him or Voldemort who could have an office so full of snakes," said Harry, shooting Ron a sideways glance when he heard the elder boy gasp at the mention of Voldemort's name.

"I can," mused Ron, composing himself. "What about Sirius' grandfather? That Phineas guy."

"He was a Headmaster, Ronald," sighed Hermione shaking her head. "He would have had Dumbledore's office."

"It was just a suggestion," muttered Ron, crossing his arms defensively across his chest.

"We've got to keep all our options open," offered Harry, trying to placate his two best friends. "I might be wrong, it might not be Slytherin's, but I think it's our best lead. So, what does it say Hermione?"

Hermione flicked furious to the page and adjusted the positioning of the book so both Ron and Harry could read it too.

"This can't be right," mumbled Harry, peering down at the book. "It says that Slytherin's office was razed to the ground and sealed up – that no one knows of its location."

"You think it's still Slytherin's office?" asked Ron. "The office we saw was intact, a little dusty, but still standing."

"Maybe someone rebuilt it," mused Hermione, resting her chin on her hand. "A restoration spell is not that advanced – the effect would need to be accumulated, but it is possible."

Harry pushed himself up from the armchair and looked into the fire, his green eyes illuminated by the warm light it emitted. None of it made any sense… he did not want to think about who could have rebuilt Slytherin's office because there was only one person he could imagine who would. Snape's disappearance was also out of the ordinary… transported by a portkey? Harry was not concerned about his Potion master's safety, but he was intrigued as to who could have smuggled in or, indeed, created a rogue portkey underneath Dumbledore's nose.

"We should talk to Dumbledore," replied Harry finally, turning back to his two friends. "If anyone'll know, he will."

"Let's just hope we don't run into the Bloody Baron or McGonagall on the way," said Ron, his face growing a little pale at the mere mention of the deputy headmistress' name.

"Knowing our luck, we probably will," sighed Harry, helping Hermione to her feet. "Come on."

* * *

"Sssh, don't try to get up," came a soft, lilting voice.

Severus Snape's beetle black eyes soon focused on the young woman who stood over him. Her red hair fell about her shoulders, stray bangs framing her heart-shaped face; she was holding a cold compress gently to his forehead. The Potions master had no idea where he was and he did not like the feeling of helplessness that had settled over him. Who was this woman… she was so familiar. _No, the woman you think of is dead…_

"What is your name?" asked the young woman, offering him a glass of water.

Snape merely looked at her, not deigning to take the water or answer her question. It was obvious to him that from the house she kept and the way she was tending to him she was a muggle. The red-haired woman shrugged her shoulders and placed the glass on the bedside table.

"You were running from someone, although if you won't tell me your name then I doubt you will tell me who you were running from," sighed the woman, crossing her arms across her chest.

The more he looked her, the more Snape was distinctly reminded of _her_; Lily Evans, Harry Potter's mother. The same vibrant green eyes and auburn hair, a similar effervescence and personality… from what he could tell after mere moments of consciousness.

"I'll let you rest," she resigned, walking towards the bedroom door.

"Severus," mumbled Snape, his eyes settling on her.

"Pardon?"

"My name is Severus," replied Snape.

"Leria," smiled the young woman. "I'm Leria."

* * *

_Keep your eyes pealed for the next instalment of "Light in the Darkness". I'm currently in the middle of exams, so the update might not be around for a few weeks. I promise I'll try and keep this fic going. Please feel free to drop me a review!_


	5. The Gift

_Okay, this is Chapter 5 of "Light in the Darkness." This fic took somewhat of a U-turn when I was writing it, but I'm quite happy with the way it's progressing. I hope you enjoy this instalment and I'll get back to writing the next one. Characters copyrighted to J.K. Rowling. Leria and the Tourville family are my own creations.

* * *

_

.:Chapter 5:.

The invisibility cloak was hard pressed to conceal all three of them anymore, but somehow Harry, Ron and Hermione managed to navigate their way to Dumbledore's office. They had had a close run in with Mrs Norris', but, once again, the invisibility cloak had somehow managed to fool her. Harry was at the front of the train with Ron bringing up the rear; Hermione was in the middle, her eyes constantly flickering to her watch, wincing at how they were most definitely breaking curfew. Making sure the coast was clear, Harry flung off the invisibility cloak, exposing the three people underneath. Ron rifled through his robes to locate his wand, offering both Hermione and Harry an apologetic shrug of the shoulders.

"Liquorice Snap," whispered Harry, hoping that the password had not changed.

The three were given permission to enter and made their way into the Headmaster's office. Harry felt his heart sink when he heard that there was more than just Dumbledore's voice in the office. Looking to Hermione and Ron, Harry offered them a shrug of his shoulders and let out a discontented sigh.

"Perhaps we should've waited 'til morning," said Ron, shaking his head.

"This is hardly something we should be procrastinating about," retorted Hermione, rolling her eyes at Ron's comment.

Harry ventured forward a little and gingerly knocked on the door.

"I will be with you in a moment, Harry," replied Dumbledore, his lilting voice carrying through the thick wood of the door.

Harry felt his mouth drop open slightly when he heard Dumbledore's response; turning around to his friends, Harry was not surprised to see the same look on their faces.

"Bloody psychic," muttered Ron, his brown eyes wide. "I wonder who he's talking to."

Within seconds, the heavy oak door to Dumbledore's office swung open, revealing the sole figure of the ancient Headmaster. Albus Dumbledore wore a concerned look on his face, his wizened features appearing more lined than usual, his piercing blue eyes tinged with some unnameable emotion.

"Harry, Ron, Hermione," greeted Dumbledore, a warm smile gracing his lips. "I'm sure you have a good reason for breaking so many school rules to come see me."

"We wanted to ask you about Snape, Sir," began Harry, looking beyond the Headmaster for any sign of who had been in the office; however, there was no one there, no sign… nothing.

"_Professor_ Snape, Harry?" replied Dumbledore, a hint of incredulity lacing his words. "You had all best take a seat."

From out of nowhere, Dumbledore conjured three rather comfy armchairs and gestured for the three friends to sit. Hermione perched gingerly on the edge of the seat, whilst Harry and Ron enjoyed the comfort the chairs provided.

"Professor Snape wasn't in Potions this afternoon, Sir," said Hermione. "One of the first years's said that he had just… well, _disappeared_ in the middle of their lesson yesterday."

Dumbledore looked at the trio, his fingers steepled, and his eyes unwavering.

"What do you believe caused Professor Snape to 'disappear' as you so prudently put it, Miss Granger?" asked Dumbledore, his voice betraying nothing.

"Well, I think it was a portkey," replied Hermione.

"Very good," smiled Dumbledore as if this line of questioning was little more than an informal test. "It was indeed a portkey that transported Professor Snape."

"But Sir, how could someone place a portkey inside Hogwarts? Surely there are spells in place to guard against unauthorised portkeys?" asked Harry, his brow marred by a frown.

"Where there is a will, there is a way, Harry," replied Dumbledore. "You of all people should know that."

Rising from his chair, the Headmaster paced the room, his eyes casting a lingering look on the smouldering embers that smoked in the fireplace.

"Professor Snape was transported by a portkey," began Dumbledore, his voice barely above a whisper, "but he is safe."

"Where is he?" asked Harry, an insatiable curiosity hanging on his ever word. "Why was he transported? Who placed the portkey?"

"So many questions, Harry," smiled Dumbledore, "just like your father."

Harry felt his cheeks grow warm at the mention of his father, but the young man maintained his composure. How could Dumbledore take this so calmly? It was true, Harry had no love for the missing Potions master, but if a Professor of Snape's calibre could go missing, what was to say that other persons at Hogwarts would not…

"Professor Snape is safe, that is all you need to know for the moment," continued Dumbledore. "I do not like keeping things from my students, but it is for Professor's Snape's well-being that his whereabouts are unknown. Now as to why he was transported, we can only hazard a guess that it was one of Lord Voldemort's followers who wished it. As to who placed the portkey, well… that is one question I cannot yet answer. However, I believe it is safe to assume that it was of Lord Voldemort's bidding."

Hermione looked to Harry, a fearful look settling on her delicate features.

"Oh, don't worry Miss Granger, I believe Hogwarts is still quite safe," said Dumbledore.

"How can you say that?" retorted Harry, rising from his seat.

"Harry-,"

"No, Hermione," spat Harry, silencing his friend in two words. "Was Hogwarts safe when Barty Crouch Jr. was pretending to be Moody? When the basilisk was slithering through the pipe works? When Voldemort was attached to the back of Quirrel's head!"

Dumbledore merely listened to Harry's angry retort, a look akin to serenity settling on his features. After a few seconds of silence, the Headmaster cleared his throat and addressed the points Harry had made.

"You are right, Harry," replied Dumbledore calmly. "Lord Voldemort has found many ways of infiltrating Hogwarts, but I believe this incident is somewhat localised."

"You mean Voldemort only wanted Professor Snape?" asked Hermione, her fair eyebrows arched.

"That is what I believe, Miss Granger," offered Dumbledore. "Snape is important to both the Order of the Phoenix and Lord Voldemort."

Harry shook his head in disbelief. How could Dumbledore not think the school was in danger?

"You say Snape's safe? How do you know he isn't plotting against the Order with Voldemort?" challenged Harry.

Ron nodded in agreement to Harry's question; much like Harry, Ron also had an instant distrust for the bad guy-turned-spy Potions master.

"I do not think I can ever convince you," replied Dumbledore softly. "You carry your father and Sirius' hatred for Professor Snape, Harry. I trust Professor Snape and his safety is not in the hands of Lord Voldemort, but in the most unlikely of sources. A source he is very much loath to admit to."

* * *

Severus Snape passed in and out of consciousness throughout the rest of the day. His eyes occasionally fluttered open to see the pale frame of Leria pressing a cold flannel to his forehead, but soon enough he was plunged back into the nightmarish world of the past. _Her_ face appeared too many times to count – Lily Evans, her voice echoing about the dark recesses of his subconscious. It must have been late in the evening when Severus finally regained consciousness once again. His dark hair was stuck to his high cheekbones, a mixture of sweat and water mingling with his dark locks. He was alone in the room, but he could hear movement in an adjacent room. Pushing himself up into a seated position, a wave of nausea hit Severus causing him to bring a hand to his forehead. _Poisoned? _However, Snape did not get much of a chance to think on whether he had been poisoned or not when Leria entered the room, a tray in her hands.

"You're awake," said Leria, a ghost of a smile lingering on her lips. "How do you feel?"

Severus did not reply to her question, but merely looked passed her into the room she had just come from.

"I've made you some soup," continued Leria, setting the tray down on the makeshift bedside table. "You should try and keep your strength up."

Leria perched on the edge of his bed; Severus felt himself flinch at her closeness. He did not know whether it was the fact she was a muggle, or whether she was so much like Lily Evans that had caused him to flinch as he did… perhaps it was something different altogether.

"I didn't know who to contact," said Leria, looking into his eyes, "who to inform about your whereabouts."

"It does not matter," muttered Snape, eyeing Leria disdainfully. "I'm sure I shall not be missed."

The young woman allowed a pang of sympathy to flitter across her features.

"Is that who you were running away from?" inquired Leria, wondering whether he would finally tell her about the name he muttered in his sleep. "From Lucius? From Lily?"

Severus's dark eyes widened at her mentioning of those two names, his instant surprise soon gave way to an unbidden anger.

"You know nothing!" snarled Snape, his eyes narrowing. "Who I am and the names of those people are none of your business."

Snape's eyes were burning with a silent anger, boring into the young woman who sat in front of him. However, much to her credit, she did not flinch, but continued to look at him with those emerald-green eyes.

"You're right," offered Leria. "It is none of my business, but you cannot stay here forever."

"Oh believe me, I would not wish to," retorted Severus, his eyes looking about the muggle bedroom, a look of distaste settling on his features.

"You know, I can see why you won't be missed," whispered Leria angrily, her green eyes narrowing to mirror his own.

As she said her words, the lightbulb in the lamp on the bedside table began to flicker, growing in intensity as she continued to stare unwaveringly into Severus's eyes. The Potions master looked between the lamp and the young woman, his eyes narrowing even further. _Could it be that she's… a witch?_

"Does that happen often?" asked Severus, gesturing with his head towards the lamp.

"What do you care if it does?" retorted Leria, breaking her eyes from his and looking at the lamp.

Severus was used to this kind of insolence from a great number of his students back at Hogwarts – he found that the best policy was to ignore it, or issue detention. However, this was a grown woman… somehow detention was not going to work in this situation.

"Who were your parents?" continued Severus, surveying the woman.

"I don't know," replied Leria, a trace of anger in her voice. "My mother died, my father gave me up for adoption."

He did not know why, but the Potions master felt his stomach lurch when Leria talked about her family. The situation, although pointedly different from his own, seemed to bring back rather painful memories of his own childhood, of his father… no, he was no father to him. Tobias Snape was a bully, a man who did nothing but terrorise his family. Severus shed no tears when that man died – it was the final chapter in a now closed book.

"What do you care who my parents are?" asked Leria, noticing the man's silence. "It's not like you'd know them."

"No, you are right," returned Severus, his eyes unglazing and refocusing on the young woman. "It was my feeble attempt at small talk, pay no attention."

Severus brought his left hand to pinch the bridge of his nose; he had to make contact with Dumbledore or someone from the Order. He had to tell them that somehow, someone had placed an unlicensed portkey in Hogwarts.

"I was meaning to ask you about that," Leria said, her eyes fixed on the serpentine tattoo that laced his naked forearm.

"It's nothing," muttered Severus. "It's in the past."

"It looks new, the ink almost looks wet," mused Leria, her hand reaching out towards it.

"DON'T!" snarled Severus, withdrawing away from her. "Do not meddle in affairs that do not concern you!"

Leria appeared shocked for a few moments before she softly rose from the edge of the bed in silence and headed towards the bedroom door.

"I know what you are," whispered Leria from the doorway, her lips barely moving. Closing the door behind her, she left the Potions master with his own thoughts and to ponder over the meaning of her words.

* * *

Dumbledore had not divulged all the details that surrounded Snape's whereabouts, but he had told the trio that their Potions master was safe in the hands of a muggle. Ron and Harry had looked at each other incredulously, whilst Hermione merely arched an eyebrow at Dumbledore's words.

"Is that who you were talking to earlier, sir?" asked Harry, his temper cooled slightly.

"As to that, I am sworn to secrecy," replied Dumbledore, looking at Harry with a slightly reprimanding look. "I do not make a habit of divulging my private conversations to students, Harry."

Harry felt his cheeks grow warm as he felt the admonishment behind his Headmaster's words.

"Now that I have answered your questions regarding Professor Snape to the best of my ability, is there anything else before I usher you off to your dormitories?" asked Dumbledore, one of his silvery eyebrows arched questioningly. "I am sure Professor McGonagall would not appreciate the three of you asleep in her Transfiguration class tomorrow."

"Well, yes, there was one last thing, sir," began Hermione, opening up _Hogwarts: A History._ "Ron, Harry, perhaps you had best explain what you saw."

Ron and Harry looked at each other before recalling their tale once more. They spoke of the empty portrait that had been filled, the staircase transporting them to a blank wall, the serpent door and finally the office that lay beyond. Dumbledore listened intently to their tale, he showed no signs of concern or worry, but rather a placidity marked his features. When the boys had finished their tale, Hermione continued, showing Dumbledore the entries she had found in her book.

"It says that Slytherin's office was destroyed, burnt down and sealed up," said Hermione. "No one knows of its location, but from what Harry and Ron said, it sounds like someone had been there recently."

"Interesting," murmured Dumbledore carefully. "You say something was removed from this office?"

"I think it was a book," offered Harry, "but I can't be sure."

"Would you take me to where you found this office?" Dumbledore said, his eyes moving between the three students. "If what you say is true, there can be no denying a connection between Professor Snape's disappearance and the reappearance of Salazar Slytherin's office."

Ron gave an audible gulp whilst Harry looked over at Hermione. Harry had known Hermione Granger long enough to know when she was thinking on something – her brow was creased in a frown and her lips were pursed together. _There is a connection… it's just too convenient,_ thought Harry, his eyes still lingering on his friend._ No doubt Hermione'll figure it out._

"I'll show you," replied Harry finally, looking back to Dumbledore.

"Then please lead the way," smiled Dumbledore, rising from his chair and gesturing to the door.

* * *

Leria closed the bedroom door behind her and breathed out a long sigh of discontentment. She had only been trying to help, but he had thrown it back at her… and then she had snapped. Bad things had happened – the lamp had started flickering… she had lost control. Leria bit into her bottom lip as she pressed her back against the bedroom door. She knew what he was… he was a wizard; when she had removed his long travelling robes, a battered length of ash had fallen on to the floor. When she had picked it up, she felt the energy that surged through it… Leria was not a naïve woman. However, she had not thought it right to bring up his being a wizard, especially if there was a possibility he was running from what he was.

"He wouldn't understand what it's like to be hated," murmured Leria under her breath.

Pushing herself from the door, Leria crossed to the antique French dresser that took up a large part of the living room. Opening one of the drawers at the front, she slid her fingers underneath the fake bottom and removed the flimsy piece of wood, revealing the true bottom of the drawer. It was dusty, but there amidst the dust was an antique rosewood box. Gingerly, Leria removed the box from the drawer, running her tapered fingers along the embossed patterns that adorned it. Flicking open the catch, she opened the box and gazed at the treasure that lay inside; a highly polished willow wand, gold filigree embedded in the handle.

"This is all you left me with, mother," whispered Leria, her fingers caressing the wand. "This and a life of loneliness."

A stray tear trickled down the young woman's cheek as she closed the box. Tucking it underneath her arm, she turned to look at the bedroom door. _Could he help me? Could he help me find out what I am…?_ Wiping away the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes, Leria steeled herself and knocked on the bedroom door.

"Come in," came the stern voice.

Leria pushed open the door; he was awake, the soup bowl next to him empty and a slight colour clinging to his pallid complexion. He studied her with those inky black eyes as she brought a chair closer to his bedside.

"I know you are a wizard," began Leria, noticing that he did not seem surprised by her revelation. "I don't know anything else about you, nor do I want to…" It was here that she broke off, her green eyes looking down at the box in her hands.

Severus continued to look at her, unsure as to how he should deal with this situation. The woman had a latent power that much was obvious, she was far from being the nondescript muggle he had wrongly assumed her to be.

"You have something to show me?" asked Severus, gesturing to the box in her hands. "It was my mother's," replied Leria, passing the gilded box over to him, thankful that he had directed the conversation. "It's all I have left of her."

Severus flicked the catch and opened the box to reveal the willow wand that lay nestled on a bed of crushed blue velvet. There was no surprise on his face – it was almost as if he knew what was going to be in the box before it opened.

"Your mother was a witch," said Severus, removing the wand from its box, his voice cool. "What was her name?"

"Rose," replied Leria, her voice was strong, but trembled ever so slightly. "Rose Tourville… her maiden name was 'Balfour.'"

Severus could not place the Christian name, or the maiden name, but the surname intrigued him somewhat. The Tourvilles were a prominent French pureblood family… could it be that Leria's mother had married into them?

"And your father?" pressed Severus, one of his fine eyebrows arched. "What was his name?"

"Does it matter who my father was?" snapped Leria, her eyes narrowing. "He abandoned me when my mother died. He is nothing to me; a poor excuse for a human being."

Severus placed the wand back in the box and passed it back to her; he felt something akin to a shock of electricity prick his skin when his fingers brushed against hers.

"Do you want to know who you are, or not?" asked Severus, his voice marked with a certain callousness.

"I know what I am," replied Leria. "An outcast, an orphan… cursed. Telling you my father's name will not change that."

"You are not cursed," murmured Severus, his lips barely moving. The wizard was as surprised as Leria appeared to be by his own sincerity. Clearing his throat, Severus pressed on with his line of questioning. "Who was he?"

Leria looked down at the box that held her mother's wand before looking back up at Snape.

"His name was Luc," whispered Leria. "Luc de Tourville. My mother was twenty when she married him… she was twenty-one when she gave birth to me. There were complications and she died. He left me on the doorstep of an orphanage."

Severus could detect the underlying emotion that clung to her words; he had never been in this situation before, had never had someone tell him about their past, their childhood… The wizard remained quiet, allowing Leria to continue.

"I was always in trouble," murmured Leria, knitting her fingers in her lap. "When I got angry, furniture would shake, lights would explode… the curtains even caught fire once. The other children used to lock me in the airing cupboard when the Sisters weren't looking… although I think the Sisters were somewhat aware of the situation."

Leria smiled sadly when she thought back on the Sisters at the orphanage; the majority of them were French and although she did not know what they were saying then, Leria knew enough French now to understand what '_diable'_ meant.

"No one would adopt a problem child like me," continued Leria, her eyes looking down at her hands. "When I was sixteen, I ran away from the orphanage with little more than the clothes I had on my back. I tried to outrun everything, my past, my family… everything. I even went to see a priest… I wanted absolution for this curse from God. I was soon enough on the streets, begging…"

Leria broke off there and shook her head, letting out a heavy sigh.

"I don't know why I'm telling you this," she said, placing the box on the bedside table. "You're a stranger and you have your own problems. I'm sorry."

Severus watched her get up, her green eyes looking everywhere else but at him. Picking up the tray, Leria made her way to the bedroom door once again, a steady stream of tears running down her cheeks – it did not matter though, he could not see her.

"If you want to control your power," began Severus hoarsely, "then I can help you."

The word 'help' felt alien on the Potion master's tongue, but somehow the words just seemed to flow unbidden. He was surprised when he saw Leria stop in her tracks and turn her head slightly. It was small, but it was there… a soft nod of silent acceptance.

* * *

_Keep checking back for the next instalment of a "Light in the Darkness." Please feel free to drop me a review and tell me how you like the story so far._


	6. Crying, Waiting, Hoping

_Here's the next instalment of 'Light in the Darkness.' I am really not too sure how lengthy this fic is going to be; I guess all that matters is that I am enjoying writing it. For those of you who are reading this fanfiction, thanks a lot for the interest. Just to let you know, this fiction is sort of AU – it is set after GoF and works under the pretence that certain aspects of OotP did not happen (to some extent). Characters copyrighted to J.K. Rowling. Original characters, e.g. Leria, the Tourvilles, are credited to sakurazukamori.

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_

.:Chapter 6:.

"_I can't do this," whispered a breathless female voice.  
_"_Yes, you can, ma chère," soothed a male voice. "It'll all be over soon."  
_"_Oh God," cried the woman, beads of sweat trickling down her alabaster skin.  
_"_Sshh, I'm here," murmured the man, brushing stray auburn strands from the young woman's face. "I won't leave you."_

_The young woman let out an almighty scream as she pushed as hard as she could with every fibre of her being. Fresh tears spilt from her blue eyes as she heard the stifled cry of her newborn child. The man who stood beside her had renewed tears in his piercing green eyes, a smile emblazoned across his handsome features._

"_It's a girl," announced the Healer who stood at the bottom of the bed. "She's a beautiful, healthy girl."  
_"_Oh, ma colombe," whispered the young man to the woman whose hand he clutched so fervently. "We have a daughter and she is beautiful."_

_The woman burst into sobs of tears as the squalling babe was placed upon her breast. The baby looked at its mother with startling green eyes, its tiny hands balled up into tiny fists._

"_Hello," whispered the woman, her voice choked with emotion as she clutched the baby tenderly to her chest._

_The young man wiped away his tears with the back of his hand as he leant over to place a loving kiss on his wife's forehead._

"_She has your eyes," murmured the young woman, looking up at her husband, smiling at the joy that danced in his emerald eyes.  
_"_Ah, but she has your beauty," replied the man, gently stroking the clenched knuckles of his newborn daughter's hand._

_The young woman laughed, but her laughter was soon cut short; her face contorted into one that was in the throes of dire agony. Taking the baby from her arms, the man called for the Healer – his words shouted with the utmost urgency. The Healer rushed in, his face growing pale when he saw that the young woman was severely haemorrhaging._

"_What is wrong with my wife?" shouted the man, his bottom lip trembling as he looked frantically between the Healer and his young wife.  
_"_She's haemorrhaging," replied the Healer, summoning another of his co-workers to the room with red sparks from his wand. "We've got to stem the bleeding otherwise-"  
_"_Otherwise, what?" yelled the young man, his voice almost drowned out by the combined screams of his newborn daughter and his wife._

_The Healer looked at the young man, his eyes full of the deepest sympathy._

"_Oh, mon Dieu, no," whispered the man, horrified. "No…"  
_"_We need to stem the bleeding," replied the Healer, reiterating his earlier words._

_The young man nodded dumbly, his whole body numb… the earlier elation he had felt driven away. Everything seemed to grow silent; he looked down at his newborn daughter, her little mouth twisting as she emitted her birth cries. His emerald eyes found the deep blue eyes of his wife, her face growing a deathly shade of white. Her hand was outstretched towards him…_

"_Don't leave me," she sobbed her voice weak. "P-please."  
_"_Oh, my love," replied the man hoarsely, his voice racked by sobs. "I'm not going anywhere."_

_Two Healers had now entered the room; one of them gently took the newborn child from the young man's arms and placed her in a crib next to her mother's bed. Invoking a silence charm around the crib, the Healer joined her two co-workers in attempting to save the young woman's life._

"_I'm so scared," whispered the young woman, her fingers tightly wrapped around her husband's.  
_"_Don't be scared," sobbed the man, fervently kissing his wife's parched mouth. "I'll be with you all the way."  
_"_Where is she?" asked the woman, her eyes searching the room. "Where is my daughter? Where is my Leria?"  
_"_Leria is safe," replied the young man, the name of his newborn daughter bringing more tears to his eyes. "She's missing her mother, I think."  
_"_You'll make a wonderful father," murmured the woman, her voice cracking, "and… and a wonderful mother too."  
_"_Oh God," cried the man, finally cracking under the emotional strain. "Oh God, please don't leave me. I can't… I can't do this without you, Rose!"_

_The Healer looked up at the young man and shook his head._

"_What's going on?" asked the young woman, drifting in and out of consciousness; the blood loss was severe.  
_"_Nothing, my love," lied the young man, attempting to level his voice. "I-I just have to talk to the Healer. I won't be far."_

_The young man walked over to the Healer who took him to one side, a grave look stealing away the youthfulness of his features._

"_We have done everything we can for your wife, Mr Tourville," explained the Healer, his tones hushed and low. "The bleeding will not stop. The best we can do is… is make her comfortable."  
_"_She's dying," whispered Luc de Tourville, his voice barely audible.  
_"_I'm sorry, sir," replied the Healer, shaking his head. "We did everything we-,"  
_"_I know," said Luc, his face ashen grey, his bottom lip trembling. "I don't want her to be in any more pain."  
_"_She's comfortable now," said the Healer. "She will just drift off… as if she were going to sleep."_

_Luc de Tourville nodded distractedly to the Healer's last words and returned to his wife's side, his mind swimming… his thoughts a jumbled mess fighting for precedence in his mind._

"_What did the Healer say, my love?" asked Rose, her words holding a sing-song quality to them.  
_"_He said… he said you were going to be just fine, ma chère," lied Luc, clasping her hand tightly.  
_"_And Leria?" whispered the woman._

_Luc looked over at his now sleeping daughter, a pang of guilt consuming him._

"_She will grow up strong and beautiful," replied Luc, tears flowingly freely down his pallid complexion, "with the love of both her parents... always."_

Leria woke up suddenly, her emerald green eyes flying open, her body shaking and drenched in a film of cold sweat. Her breathing was laboured, her chest rising and falling in quick succession. The dream… it was so real, so _vivid._ The faces of her parents were so clear to her… she saw them as if she were standing in the room with them, rather than as the crying baby in the crib. She wanted to believe that the dream was real, that her father had really been so loving… but Leria was sure it was nothing more than her subconscious inventing the whole scene. It was how she _wanted_ to see her father… Goosepimples marked her skin as she climbed out of bed and made her way to the kitchen. Her throat was hoarse and dry – had she been screaming in her sleep?

"Mad and cursed," muttered Leria under her breath as she filled a glass with water.

Drinking deeply, she let out a long sigh, her arms wrapping around herself… it was only then that she realised the shattered plates that littered the kitchen floor. Her mouth dropped as she looked at the devastation around her; glasses had imploded, lightbulbs had exploded. Was this her doing? The thought drained all colour from her face and, not for the first time in her life, she was scared… scared of herself.

He could see her back as she leaned against the kitchen sink, her auburn locks spilling over her shoulder, her hands clutching at her head. Never had he seen someone who so resembled Lily Potter in his whole life. Trotting a little closer towards the house, the black shaggy dog sniffed the air. Yes, _he _was still here… he had spent too long at Hogwarts with Snivellus not to recognise his greasy smell. Sirius wished that he did not have to keep an eye out on Severus Snape… but, for the time being, it was one of his duties to the Order. It was only by sheer luck that Sirius had stumbled across the ailing Potions master and the young woman who supported his dead-weight back to her secluded cottage. The moment Sirius had seen that the man was Snape, he had made contact with Dumbledore… since that moment he had kept a constant watch over the house. It pained him to be in his animagus form for so long, but he could not risk being seen by muggle or wizard alike… his name had still yet to be cleared.

Emitting a soft bark, Sirius contented himself with gazing at the young woman, his heart pained at her likeness to the friend he had lost all those years ago.

* * *

"I can't believe it," muttered Harry, taking a redundant bite from a piece of buttered toast.  
"You're telling me," agreed Ron, his mouth full of breakfast cereal.  
"Honestly Ron," sighed Hermione, rolling her eyes. "Don't talk with your mouth full!"

Ron hastily swallowed his breakfast cereal, his cheeks colouring under Hermione's admonishment.

"It was there before! The snakes, the portrait, everything!" said Harry, slamming his fist down on the table causing a few Gryffindor faces to turn and look at him. "I saw Slytherin's Office with my own eyes, yet when we try and show Dumbledore there was nothing there!"  
"Harry," warned Hermione, casting a nervous glance at the Gryffindors who had begun to stare. "You can't just broadcast this to the whole school."  
"Well it's not like there's anything to broadcast, is there!" retorted Harry, his voice an angry whisper. "Dumbledore obviously thinks we're liars."  
"Oh, come on, Harry," replied Hermione, taking a sip of tea. "I'm sure he doesn't think you would make something like this up."  
"Believe what you like Hermione," snarled Harry. "Half the people in this Hall don't believe that Voldemort's back even though I saw him... saw him kill Cedric. Maybe Dumbledore thinks I'm lying about that too!"  
"You're being ridiculous!" sighed Hermione, rolling her eyes.  
"Yeah, that's right Hermione," spat Harry, his teeth clenched, "that's me! Ridiculous Harry Potter! The one who lied about Voldemort's return, a bloody mockery!"

Ron placed his hand on his friend's shoulder, shooting Hermione a reprimanding look.

"Look, listen mate," began Ron, his voice full of sincerity, "I might not have been there when well, you-know-who returned, but I was there in that office. I saw it too. I know you aren't lying, mate."  
"Thanks Ron," replied Harry, placing a hand over his friend's, a sigh escaping from his lips. "Good to know at least one person believes me."  
"Harry, I believe you too," offered Hermione, a little hurt at her friend's presumption and the way his eyes silently questioned her loyalty. "Perhaps it's like the Room of Requirement… it moves around."  
"Question is, where would it move to?" mused Ron, eyeing up the breakfast muffins. "It seems strange that the new portrait and the office appeared at the same time."

Harry nodded absentmindedly… it seemed like everything bad happened in threes; firstly, Snape's disappearance (well, that was not necessarily a bad thing), secondly, the new portrait and thirdly, an office appearing from nowhere. None of it made sense…

"Well, we have a free period between Transfiguration and Herbology," Hermione suggested, opening her diary, neat script marking each page. "The best we can do is ask the surrounding portraits if they saw where that new portrait went."  
"That's a lot of portraits to ask, don't you think?" scoffed Ron, his tone condescending.  
"Got a better idea, Ronald?" admonished Hermione, her eyes narrowing. "Even if we find out the name of the portrait, we might be able to find out more about him. Who knows? He might have a portrait elsewhere; you know, like Phineas Nigellus?"

Harry stared at some indistinct point across the room, his thoughts disordered, and his temper simmering just below the surface. The way Dumbledore had looked at him last night made Harry bristle with indignation. He was not a liar. He would prove that Slytherin's office existed… Harry's fist clenched into an angry ball; they needed to find that portrait and quickly… the words it had uttered had sent a chill down his spine: _"The basilisk may have failed, but there will be other purges! SLYTHERIN'S WORK WILL BE FULFILLED!"_

"Don't you think, Harry?" asked Hermione, her voice coming out of nowhere.  
"Sorry?" replied Harry, shaken from his thoughts.  
"Don't you think you should write to Sirius about this?" said Hermione.  
"What good will writing to Sirius do?" sighed Harry at the thought of his fugitive godfather.  
"Well, with his family background, he might know something about it," prompted Hermione delicately.  
"It's not his family background," warned Harry, surveying his friend with cold eyes. "He was never like them."  
"Still," continued Hermione, "he might know _something._"

Before Harry got a chance to reply to Hermione's suggestion, the sound of his and Ron's name drew his attention to the tartan clad Professor McGonagall making a beeline for them.

"Potter, Weasley," greeted McGonagall sternly. "Come see me in my office once you have finished breakfast. It would seem you have been shirking your scholarly duties!" Noticing Hermione's worried look, McGonagall offered her a softer look. "No, this does not concern you, Miss Granger. I will see you in Transfiguration later this morning."

Offering Harry and Ron another stern glance, McGonagall swept out of the Great Hall, her tartan robes whipping about her. Ron had grown a deathly shade of white whilst Harry looked seemingly nonplussed.

"Detentions for life," whimpered Ron, looking like he was going to drown himself in the remnants of his breakfast cereal.  
"Come one, we best get to it," replied Harry, shoulder his satchel, "not unless you want detentions in death too."

Ron paled even further and grabbed his bag. Hermione attempted to offer them a reassuring look and a few words.

"See you in Transfiguration, Hermione," interrupted Harry, shaking his head as she attempted to speak. "I know what you're going to say."  
"What? Good luck?" smiled Hermione, squeezing Harry's hand.

Harry looked down at her hand and let a small smile touch his lips.

"Thanks," he said, returning her squeeze with one of his own. "I'll see you later. Come on, Ron."

The two Gryffindors briskly left the Hall, their footsteps fading under the clattering of dinner plates and the chattering of voices.

* * *

"Can you really help me?" asked Leria as she sat at the bottom of Severus's bed, her face looking drawn.

Severus had expected some form of morning pleasantries from the woman, but it would seem that she wanted to get straight to the point. He did not blame her… his sleep, although broken anyway, was shattered with her moans and shouts along with the sound of broken glasses and plates. Her power, once latent, was now becoming uncontrollable…

"What did you dream of last night?" asked Severus, pushing himself up in bed. "And don't lie to me."  
"I dreamt of my parents," replied Leria, brushing her auburn hair behind her ears. "I dreamt of my mother dying."

Severus felt the corner of his mouth twitch when she said her last words… he had experienced a similar dream too many times to count. It was one image he kept under strict lock and key in his mind… he would not allow people to use his past against him.

"Is something wrong?" asked Leria, looking determinedly at the Potions master.  
"Nothing," snapped Severus, his black eyes narrowing. "Nothing that concerns you."

Leria felt herself recoil a little at his abruptness; there was more to this man than met the eye, but even she was not so stupid as to pry where she was not welcome. He obviously cherished his privacy… perhaps a little too violently.

"So, you want to learn how to control your powers?" inquired Severus, directing the conversation away from him.  
"I do," said Leria, nodding her head in assent.  
"Then I suggest we go somewhere more open," continued Severus.  
"You mean to instruct me now?" asked Leria, eyeing him warily. "You're still not well enough to exert yourself."  
"Since when did you become an expert on the inner workings of my body?" retorted Severus, casting the bedcovers from his slim form. "I can assure you I am more than capable of instructing an amateur… no, a _novice_, on the basics of controlling their powers! Now, come… and bring your mother's wand."

Leria watched as he pulled on his freshly laundered robes over his shirt and trousers, her eyes vainly attempting to look in another direction. Removing her mother's wand from the box on the dresser, Leria opened the backdoor that led on to a rather wild garden. It would appear that Leria had chosen to live in a cottage in the middle of nowhere… _It seems she really believes herself to be cursed…_Severus followed the young woman, his eyes squinting in response to the harsh sunlight.

"Here will suffice," barked Severus, his eyes looking about him. It seemed as though they were the only ones for miles. Casting the necessary protection spells and a rather weak Unplottable spell, Severus felt a little more at ease in his surroundings… although there was still a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach. _Why do I feel that we are not alone…?_

Standing opposite him, Leria looked down at the wand in her hand. _If only you could see me now, mum._

"First, you need to focus," said Severus coolly, stepping a little closer towards her. "Close your eyes and _feel_. Feel the energy that flows through you."

Leria closed her eyes, her breathing becoming calmer, more level. She could feel tiny surges of something like electricity running through her veins; they were small at the moment, but she knew they had the potential to increase. Leria could feel Severus's presence, she could almost feel the energy that coursed through him too; there was something about it that reassured her and frightened her in equal measure.

"I want you to visualise your power," said Severus, his voice becoming quieter as he took another soft step towards her.

Leria saw a brilliant sphere of turquoise light in her mind's eye, light and dark shades swirling into one another. It seemed so peaceful and tranquil, so under control.

"It's beautiful," she gasped, a radiant smile touching her lips.  
"That is your latent power," said Severus, his voice betraying no hint of any emotion, his words offering no response to her outburst. "It will increase over time, change colour in different situations, but that in essence is your power in its natural form."

Leria smiled; Severus felt himself look away from the young woman, her smile and the serenity of her features unnerving him somewhat. _She's nothing, but a poor replica…_ It was difficult believing the words that resounded in his head, but he remained resolute.

"Now that you are focused, let us begin," continued Snape, his wand down by his side. "I am well aware that you have spent your life in ignorance of your magical heritage, so I do not expect instant results from you. However, I expect you to listen to my instructions and follow them to the word. Is that clear?"

Leria's eyes fluttered open as Severus began to speak; her face grew serious and a look of determination settled on her delicate features.

"Crystal, sir," replied Leria, her wand poised in her hand, ready to be taught.

* * *

It was fast approaching evening at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Harry and Ron were set the tedious job of scouring cauldrons under the watchful eye of the Bloody Baron who sat perusing his first year students' Potions homework. The Bloody Baron had forbidden them to wear gloves whilst they carried out this detention and as Harry looked down at his hands he saw that they were coal-black. Harry glanced over at Ron to see that his best friend's hands were in the same condition. _I can't believe we've got a week of this,_ thought Harry, shaking his head as he attempted to remove a rather stubborn salamander blood stain from the bottom of a battered cauldron.

"When I was alive, we did this for fun," grumbled the Bloody Baron, noting Harry's violent scrubbing. "A punishment was a punishment back in my day."

Ron rolled his eyes and continued to scrub… that was all the needed to hear about, the Bloody Baron and his bloody past. And then something hit him…

"So when exactly were you alive, _sir_?" asked Ron, hoping that his deference would put him on a good footing with the ghost.  
"I have been incorporeal for almost five hundred years," replied the Baron, eyeing Ron suspiciously.  
"So, I guess you wouldn't have known Slytherin, _sir_?" continued Ron, looking over at Harry, noticing that his friend had cottoned on to his line of questioning.  
"Do they teach you nothing in History of Magic, or do you just not pay attention, boy?" retorted the Bloody Baron. "Lord Slytherin was alive five hundred years before I was even born."

Harry smiled sympathetically at Ron. _It was worth a try, mate,_ thought Harry. Even if the Bloody Baron was not alive when Slytherin had presided over Hogwarts, he might still know of the rumours surrounding Slytherin's office and also the mysterious portrait that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

"Must have been my mistake," replied Ron. "I just thought you might have known him, being such a devout Slytherin, sir."  
"Yes, _sir,_" chimed in Harry, looking up at the ghost. "Even if you didn't know him, you must know quite a lot about _Lord_ Slytherin anyway."

The Bloody Baron puffed out his blood-stained chest, a sly smile tugging at his thin mouth. Harry shot Ron a mischievous grin… he knew that the best way to get answers from the Baron was to play on his vanity, his love for Slytherin house.

"What of it?" replied the Baron, his smile diminishing and a tone of suspicion lacing his words as he saw the look that passed between the two friends.  
"Well, my friend was reading about, uh, Slytherin's Office," began Harry, wiping his hands down on his robes.  
"The Serpent's Den," muttered the Bloody Baron under his breath, "why would that concern a Gryffindor I wonder?"  
"It was just some… _light reading_," smiled Ron, thinking about Hermione when he said it.  
"No one has seen inside the Serpent's Den in over one hundred years, boy, perhaps longer," said the Baron, drifting over to the two boys. "It is nothing more than a burnt out shell. A burnt out shell _concealed_ from the prying eyes of students. "

The Baron said the last words with a certain distaste.

"Do you know who saw inside it, sir?" asked Harry, thinking over what the Baron had said.  
"Yes, a rather enterprising student, if such a concept can exist," reflected the Baron. "A Slytherin, William Dregdan."  
"What was he like, sir?" continued Ron, taking the opportunity to stop scrubbing whilst the Baron indulged them with the story.  
"A hard worker," replied the Baron simply. "He was devoted to his studies andwell-versed inSlytherin lore."  
"Sounds something like Voldemort if you ask me," muttered Harry, not liking the sound of this William Dregdan one bit.  
"Do not speak his name!" hissed the Baron, seemingly doubling in size.

Ron and Harry were momentarily stunned into silence; however, it was not long before Harry began to speak once again.

"So, this William Dregdan," said Harry, "how did he get in? I mean, if it's anything like the Chamber of Secrets, I bet he needed to speak parseltongue amongst other things."  
"Very perceptive, Potter," said the Baron, "but no one knows, no one except him and he is long dead."  
"And he left no record?" probed Ron.  
"Did Tom Riddle leave record! NO!" snapped the Baron. "The Serpent's Den is never to be rediscovered!"

The Baron shot the two Gryffindors a silencing look, one that seemed to signify the end of their conversation.

"That will be all for this evening," said the Bloody Baron curtly, sweeping his incorporeal cloak about him. "I will see you at the same time tomorrow. Do not be late."

Ron and Harry gave each other a lingering look before hastily departing the dungeons, their pace quick as they half-ran back to the Gryffindor common room. If anyone knew about this William Dregdan and the Serpent's Den, then it would be Hermione Granger.

* * *

_Well, that's Chapter 6 all done I hope you enjoyed it! Please feel free to drop me a review, tell me what you think whether I've portrayed the characters accurately etc. Sorry about the abrupt ending too – I promise the next chapter will end less abruptly. Hope you are enjoying reading and I will endeavour to update as soon as I can _


	7. That's Not Me

_Well, I'm finally employed and hating every minute of it! Retail work is really horrible and boring! Ahem… so here is Chapter 7 – a little later than I anticipated. I'd like to say thanks for the glowing reviews people have offered me; I really appreciate your feedback! Just as a prior warning… this chapter might get a little well, erm... fluffy lol. It's not my usual kinda thing, but I think it mostly fits here. Characters copyrighted to J.K. Rowling._ _Original characters are credited to sakurazukamori.

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_

.:Chapter 7:.

"You know, the Baron was wrong about something," said Harry, a puzzled look settling on his features.

"About what? He seemed to know his stuff," replied Ron. "Seemed to know it a bit _too_ well if you ask me."

Ron felt himself shudder at the thought of another Chamber of Secrets lurking in the school. It did not surprise him that there were other secrets lurking in Hogwarts, but he hoped they would not all be as sinister as that.

"He said that Voldemort left no record of how to enter the Chamber of Secrets," began Harry, "but that's not true. He _did _leave a record."

Ron let out a groan as he realised what Harry was alluding to… how could he have forgotten?

"Tom Riddle's diary," affirmed Harry. "That's how Ginny was able to open it."

"She'd go mental if she knew there was another room like that in Hogwarts," replied Ron, a pained look on his face as he thought about his little sister's close run in with Lord Voldemort.

"We can't tell her then," said Harry, the thought of Ginny in danger stirring something inside him, "but don't you think it's weird…"

"Weird?" asked Ron, looking at Harry confusedly.

"Yeah, that the Baron didn't think there was any record to open the Chamber of Secrets," continued Harry.

"Maybe he didn't know," suggested Ron, his words accompanied with a shrug of the shoulders, "but yeah, I guess it is a bit weird, mate… especially because he knows so much about Slytherin."

"Yeah," agreed Harry, his mind deep in thought.

Ron nodded his head; the two of them continued to walk a little way in silence before Ron stopped dead in his tracks.

"Wait a minute," began Ron expectedly. "Wasn't something taken from Slytherin's office? Something like… a book? Like a diary perhaps?"

"That's right," replied Harry, catching on to his friend's train of thought, "but why would a person who already had access to the Serpent's Den need a record to help them find it?"

"Guess so," said Ron, sounding more than a little dejected.

"But good thinking anyway, mate," offered Harry in way of condolence. "Must have been a pretty nasty book if you ask me… and I can only think of one person who would be after something like that…"

Ron audibly gulped as Harry's words drifted off; the thought of Voldemort in the school was beyond comprehensible fear. Although surely with Dumbledore here at Hogwarts, Voldemort would not try a direct assault on the school… would he? Ron grimaced visibly, his thoughts carrying him the rest of the way back to the Gryffindor tower in silence.

"Password, gents," announced the Fat Lady, her cheeks flushed red, a half finished bottle of sherry clenched in a ham-like hand.

"Lobalug," announced Harry, stepping through the open portrait with Ron in tow.

It was past nine, but thankfully Hermione was still very much awake making good headway on her Transfiguration homework. Slumping into one of the chairs opposite Hermione, Ron let out an exasperated sigh. Looking up from her homework, Hermione fixed the two boys with a smug gaze and an equally smug smile to match.

"Detention went well I take it," Hermione asked, placing her quill on a side table.

"I think I'd rather have a week's worth of detentions with McGonagall than the Baron," moaned Ron, massaging his temples with his fingertips. "Bloody slave driver he is!"

Harry stared intently into the fire, his mind full of names and places… of William Dregdan and Tom Riddle, of the Chambers of Secrets and the Serpent's Den. There were too many similarities… Harry did not like it one bit.

"Are you alright, Harry?" asked Hermione, her voice concerned.

"I'm fine," replied Harry, shaken from his reverie. "It's just… well, I know who found Slytherin's office."

"Yeah, the Baron told us," Ron said, straightening his slouched position. "Seemed like he was pretty impressed with it all really."

"Who was it?" asked Hermione, her brow furrowing.

"Some Slytherin called William Dregdan," replied Harry, the name said with such venom. "Heard of him?"

"Contrary to popular belief I am not a walking encyclopaedia of past alumni, Harry," chided Hermione softly, "but no, I can't say the name rings any bells."

Harry let out a discontented sigh.

"Dumbledore would know," suggested Hermione carefully.

"No," retorted Harry curtly. "He obviously doesn't believe me anyway."

"Oh, Harry," said Hermione, exasperated.

"No, Hermione," replied Harry, trying to keep the anger and frustration from his voice. "I could see it in his eyes, he thinks me and Ron were making it all up."

Ron looked pointedly at Hermione with a look that told her to stop questioning Harry. Hermione softly shrugged her shoulders and looked into the fire.

"How hard can it be to find out about this William anyway," mused Harry, more to himself than anyone is particular. "Must be something about him in the library."

"Well, we'll have a look tomorrow," placated Hermione. "We can't do anything until then."

Ron let out a loud yawn causing other students to turn and look at the group.

"The Serpent's Den," said Harry, his emerald eyes illuminated in the firelight, "that's what he called it… the Baron."

"Yeah, he got a bit touchy when we tried to ask him about how to get in," added Ron, stifling another yawn.

"He knows more than he's letting on that's why," said Harry, shaking his head in exasperation. "I bet he even knows where it is, or why it keeps moving at least."

"I don't blame him for not telling you," replied Hermione shortly. "It's obviously a dangerous place; he doesn't want people to get involved with it."

"That's just crap," retorted Harry, flinging himself down on an armchair. "I bet he's just covering up for whoever went in there last."

"Yeah, since when did the Bloody Baron care about students," agreed Ron, a hint of loathing in his words.

Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, his hand brushing against the lightening-shaped scar that marred his brow. It had not hurt in awhile… but he still had those odd dreams, dreams of familiar places, yet places he had never been to before in his life. Then there was that bitter, metallic taste of blood that accompanied the dreams… just the thought of them made Harry shudder subconsciously.

"I'm going to bed," sighed Harry, pushing himself up from the chair. "See you both in the morning."

"G'night mate," replied Ron, deciding to stay up a little while longer and figuring that Harry wanted some time alone.

Hermione gently touched Harry's arm as he went.

"Don't worry, Harry," offered Hermione softly. "We'll work it out… we always do."

"Thanks, Hermione," replied Harry, a wan smile touching his lips.

Making his way towards the dormitories, Harry brooded over his thoughts… he was even considering offloading to Sirius, or even Lupin; maybe they would know something about this Dregdan character. There seemed to be far too many connections between Tom Riddle and William Dregdan; Hermione was probably right, he should talk to Dumbledore about it. _What so he can tell you you're making it up?_ challenged Harry's subconscious. Harry shook his head in an attempt to pacify the mental battle that waged in his mind. His thoughts then shifted to that book… the one that had been taken and recently – what was it? Who could have been after it? _You know who. Who else would want a book belonging to Slytherin…_ Harry was so engrossed in his thoughts when...

"Oh!" exclaimed a flame-haired young girl, abruptly colliding with the wizard in front of her. "Harry! Are you alright?"

"S-sorry, Ginny," stuttered Harry, steadying the girl in front of him whilst shaking his head. "Wasn't watching where I was going."

When he noticed that Ginny was looking at the hands he had placed on her arms to steady her, Harry quickly dropped them leadenly to his sides, a slight blush colouring his cheeks.

"You're off to bed early," commented Ginny, trying to salvage the conversation.

"Well, yeah, detention with the Bloody Baron does that to you," replied Harry, a slight chuckle following his words.

"With the Baron?" asked Ginny, an eyebrow arched questioningly. "Potions must have been a bit of a disaster."

"Uh, yeah something like that," replied Harry, trying to stop himself staring at his best mate's sister, "but I wouldn't really know… that's why we got detention. We missed the lesson."

The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop himself. _Now she's going to wonder why we didn't turn up_, thought Harry, kicking himself internally.

"We?" asked Ginny, trying to engage Harry in eye contact. "Mum's going to be furious at Ron. How did you end up missing Potions? You must be insane."

"Oh, we overran at the library," lied Harry, "but anyway, h-how are you, Ginny?"

"Oh I'm alright," smiled Ginny, her pearly white teeth bringing a smile to Harry's face, "but you don't look so good… sure you're okay?"

Ginny softly rested her hand on Harry's shoulder, her touch feather-light, and a look of concern in her animated cinnamon eyes.

"Um, yeah," replied Harry, his insides relishing the touch on his shoulder, "just a little tired from the Baron's slave driving, but you're okay?"

Ginny laughed prettily, her laughter like a lilting harmony – a perfect accompaniment to her melodious voice.

"You've already asked me that, Harry. I'm fine," smiled Ginny, patting Harry on the shoulder amiably. "Sounds like you really do need to sleep. I'll let you get to it."

"T-thanks, Ginny," replied Harry, a feeling of relief washing over him, but a relief tinged with frustration. _I can't even ask her to Hogsmeade without getting murdered by Ron…_

Ginny smiled and headed off towards the common room, however, before Harry had even taken a step, Ginny called his name.

"Yeah?" replied Harry, a jolt of anticipation shooting through him.

"You'd tell me if something was wrong, right?" asked Ginny, her voice serious and concerned.

"Of course," lied Harry, offering her a confident smile. "That's what friends do, right?"

"Yeah," smiled Ginny, "they do. Good night, Harry."

Harry watched her as she went her long red hair swinging as she walked off. Harry Potter could do little to suppress the sigh that escaped his lips as she disappeared from view. _Now's not the right time,_ thought Harry unhappily… _probably never will be a right time. _Trudging up the rest of the stairs, Harry made his way to the dormitory and quietly shut the door behind him.

* * *

She focused on the feather in front of her with everything she could muster; it was getting late, approaching ten o' clock by her estimation. Leria had been working solidly for almost nine hours… random spots of colour clouded her vision as she strained to focus on the feather in front of her. _Come on, Leria, you can do this,_ she thought to herself as she felt Snape's eyes boring into her.

"_Wingardium Leviosa!_" said Leria, accompanying her words with the correct wand movements.

Much to her pleasure and surprise, the white feather hovered a few inches above the table's surface. Leria gently moved her wand upwards, encouraging the feather to follow as if it were attached to her wand on a piece of invisible string.

"Tenth time lucky it would seem," replied Severus coolly, watching as the feather drifted off into the air.

"Don't you know ten's my lucky number," smiled Leria, her eyes dancing with accomplishment.

Severus did not return her smile, but merely summoned the feather towards him, watching as it settled on the palm of his hand. The Potions master looked down at the feather, turning it over in his hand, feeling only the slightest shift of its weight as he did so. Looking back to Leria, he offered the feather to her.

"What's this for?" asked Leria, accepting the feather.

"Something to remind you that practice makes perfect," replied Snape, his voice emotionless.

"Well, so long as you're here to practice with me, I'm sure I'll be fine," said Leria, instantly surprised at her forwardness. Shaking her head, she felt her cheeks burning and a jumble of words spilling unchecked from her mouth. "I mean… well, I mean that you're a good-,"

"It's fine," interrupted Severus, raising a hand to halt her outburst. "I'm sure you meant nothing by it."

Leria bit down into her lower lip and felt her cheeks redden even more. Taking in a deep breath, Leria sighed, her eyes roving all about her, refusing to settle on Severus.

"You'll be leaving soon, I imagine," Leria said finally after what seemed like hours of silence.

"Yes," replied Severus monosyllabically, not knowing what else to add as a response.

Nodding her head, Leria could not help but feel a slight twinge of disappointment. She did not know why, the man had been nothing but petulant and cold towards her… maybe it was because she thought she could _know_ him, could break through that cold, unwelcoming exterior. _I was more the deceived,_ thought Leria as she looked at him, his back turned on her as he looked out towards the dark forest. He was so introverted, only speaking when he was spoken to first… some would easily consider him arrogant and rude; yet even though he had been somewhat ungrateful at times, just having someone to talk to… someone who did not think she was insane or cursed was a welcome feeling. Taking a few tentative steps towards him, Leria hung back a little as he turned around.

"I think we are finished for the day," said Severus, tucking his wand into the inside of his robes, noticing her nearness to him.

"Thank you," replied Leria, her coral lips smiling in additional gratitude. "I… I really appreciate this, Severus."

It felt strange hearing this woman call him by his first name, she who was almost a pupil, a student, to him at the present time. _No, she is not a student. She is a grown woman… just like _she _was all those years ago._

"Think of it as payment," Severus said, his voice a little lower than usual as if he himself did not want to hear his own words, "for all you have done in aiding my recovery."

"Anyone else would have done the same," replied Leria, gingerly taking another step closer towards him.

"You are so naïve as to the ways of the world," sighed Severus, shaking his head.

"You mean to tell me that in the wizarding world, people don't help each other?" asked Leria, a tone of disbelief in her voice. "I find that hard to believe."

"There is, no doubt, a great deal you would find hard to believe," replied Severus curtly.

"Then tell me?" Leria said, inquisitiveness evident in both her eyes and voice. "You know, you've still told me nothing about yourself…"

_Yes, why not tell her you are a murderer? Tell her that you went out of your way to terrorise others?_ Severus looked away from Leria, uncomfortable with the way she was looking at him and the way it made him _feel_ inside. She was an innocent - she knew nothing of his past, of the present… and he would do everything in his power to keep it that way. For her to know about him would put her in danger, he could not risk that, but _why _he could not risk that, he did not know. However, something about the thought of this young woman in danger filled the Potions master with a silent anger…

"Do not ask me," replied Severus, a grimace tainting his lips.

"Why not?" asked Leria, a frown marring her smooth brow. "I have told you about myself, about my family… yet you won't tell me anything!"

"It is a different matter entirely," muttered Severus, his hands dropping to his sides.

"I don't see how it is," sighed Leria, shaking her head. "It's no diff-,"

However, before Leria could finish, firm hands grasped the top of her arms as Severus's obsidian-black eyes flashed angrily.

"Do not ask me!" snarled Snape, his face growing pale, drowning out her words. "You understand nothing! Everything has a consequence! Every action, every word… EVERYTHING!"

Leria, much to her credit, did not tremble in his grasp, but looked at him with something akin to pity. There was something else in his voice aside from anger - the lonely, futile sound of desperation. Carefully, Leria brought a hand up from her side and allowed it to softly settle on Severus's cheek. The man's eyes grew wide, a look of momentary revulsion crossing his features before it was swiftly replaced with a look of abject shock.

"It's okay," whispered Leria, feeling the firm grip on her arms relaxing a little. She could see the tension that wracked his body, the revulsion at being touched so intimately, but she did not care. "It's alright."

Dropping her wand and the feather from her other hand, Leria gently rested it upon Severus's other cheek, cradling his face delicately in her hands. She did not look away, but held his gaze with her clear, emerald eyes. The light was fading fast in the sky, but her eyes still remained illuminated as if draining the remaining light, hurrying in the night.

"You do not know," muttered Severus, his words sounding thick on his tongue. "You do not know anything."

"Sshhh," hushed Leria, shaking her head. "Doesn't matter, does it?"

Severus felt trapped… he knew he could push her away, could remove her hands from his face, but something inside him did not want to. Something inside him _enjoyed_ the way her hands gently held his face, the way her voice was an intoxicating balm that seemed to soothe him… She was so close that he could not help but study every tiny detail of her face. From the smattering of light freckles that dusted her nose and cheeks, to the dark eyelashes that occasionally veiled those stunning green eyes… the same stunning green eyes that were looking at him. _Why does she look at me like that? With those same eyes… with _her_ eyes…_

"Why…" began Severus, however, the words he wished to say died on his lips with a simple shake of Leria's head.

"Because…" replied Leria, her voice serene, "just because… Severus."

His name sounded sacred on her tongue, each syllable whispered with reverence and respect. Tilting her head up towards him, Leria's lips brushed against Severus's encountering no resistance as they did so. Withdrawing a little, Leria looked deeply into Snape's inky-black eyes, her hands pushing his dark jaw-length hair back from his face. Just for a moment Leria thought she saw something more in the fathomless depths of his joyless eyes, something different from the arrogance, the coldness - a repressed emotion finally allowing itself to come to the surface…

The feeling of her fingers in his hair, the momentary warmth of her lips against his sent a thousand thoughts racing through Severus Snape's mind. He was dumbstruck; never before had he felt so unbelievably helpless, yet so unbelievably enthralled. She looked at him in a way he had never experienced before – it was almost as if she already _knew_ everything about him, as if she were drawing out his secrets with her eyes alone. Severus felt himself falter under those emerald orbs, his eyes breaking away from her knowing gaze.

"What's wrong?" asked Leria, tilting her head to look at him.

"Nothing," replied Severus, his voice low and emotionless. "We should go inside."

"Oh," said Leria, a momentary look of hurt flashing in her eyes as she understood his meaning, "I see. Yes, I guess you need your rest."

Dropping her hands instantly from his face, Leria stooped to pick up her wand and the feather. She stared at the feather intently before thrusting it into his hands, her eyes focused on a patch of moss at his feet.

"I do not understand," said Severus, the feather feeling awkward in his fingers.

"Neither do I," replied Leria sadly. "Neither do I." Shaking her head, Leria turned away from him and walked back towards the cottage, her footsteps silent.

The door closed softly and Severus was left on his own… he looked down at the feather; it seemed to emanate a radiance in the darkness, a pearly incandescence that stole his gaze and enraptured his senses. However, the dry crunch of leaves underfoot alerted Severus to another's presence in the shadowy garden. Within seconds, the Potions master had his wand pointed in the direction of the sound.

"Reveal yourself," snarled Severus, instinctively casting a quick glance back to the house. _Can he have found me already?_

The sound grew closer… the spacing between the footsteps was small, animal-like… perhaps a cat, or a stray dog. Severus's wand was still pointed in a threatening manner, his eyes narrowed and glittering with anticipation. Something like a sighing sound pricked the Potions master's ears and soon the footsteps sounded human, as if a person were walking towards him rather than the stray animal he had originally suspected.

"I said reveal yourself!" hissed Severus.

"A little on edge, aren't we Snivellus?" came the reply.

"_Black,_" spat Snape, as he heard Sirius Black's voice from the darkness.

Sure enough, the tall, lithe form of the animagus stepped forward out of the shadows, a smug grin dancing on his lips. His grey eyes were keen in the darkness, but were still marred with the haunting taint of Azkaban. His once well-kempt dark hair lay in straggles about his shoulders; indeed, Sirius Black had seen better times… a mere shade of the man he was all those years ago.

"What are you doing here?" questioned Snape, his wand still very much threateningly pointed at his Hogwarts enemy.

"Keeping an eye out on you for all the good it's doing," sighed Sirius, seating himself on a tree stump.

"I didn't know you cared," sneered Snape sarcastically.

"Believe me I didn't relish the assignment," retorted Sirius, his grey eyes narrowing. "I hardly consider the safety of _former_ Death Eaters a worthwhile venture."

The look in Snape's eyes was murderous, it took every piece of restraint he could muster not to kill the man sat in front of him.

"You think your taunts will get a rise out of me, Black?" snapped Snape, his lip curled into a sneer.

"Oh it's hardly a taunt, Snivellus," replied Sirius, his visage growing darker. "It's the truth… for the most part, isn't it?"

"I do not have to explain myself to anyone," said Snape venomously, "least of all to you, Black."

"Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater," growled Sirius, standing up, his teeth bared in an angry snarl.

"Dumbledore doesn't seem to think so," replied Snape effortlessly, "so it matters little to me what you think, Black; you, a wanted convict, murderer… _betrayer._"

Instantly, Sirius had grabbed Snape by the throat and had his wand in hand. His breathing was short and ragged, his eyes burning with a ferocious rage, his face contorted into an unforgiving glare. Snape merely stared at Sirius, his eyes glittering with malice.

"Touched a nerve, have I?" whispered Snape, bringing his wand to settle on Sirius's neck.

"I'm no betrayer," spat Sirius harshly. "Pettigrew, your little Death Eater friend, betrayed them."

"It's a shame only a handful of people believe that," replied Snape amusedly, his voice barely above a sly whisper. "In the wizarding world's eyes, _you_ are the man responsible for betraying James and Lily Potter."

"Do not speak their names," snapped Sirius, his grip tightening on Snape's throat. "Do not even think them! James was ten times the wizard you ever were!"

"And a fine job he did, protecting his family," Snape sneered, his voice full of venom and hatred. "Although his mudblood wife was hardly worth the sacrifice, don't you agree?"

Snape had barely finished his words when Sirius forced him against the nearest tree, the Potions master's head hitting the trunk with a satisfying _thunk._ Sirius's wand was now digging into the side of Snape's neck, his face inches away from Snape's own.

"James should've let you go," snarled Snape, "he should've let Lupin tear you apart all those years ago. Merlin knows I would've done."

"Well now's your chance, Black," challenged Snape defiantly, his mouth twisted into a cruel smile. "Finish the job…"

* * *

_A little bit of a cliffy there, but I thought it was a good place to end the chapter. I really love the animosity between Snape and Sirius – it's great fun to write. Well, I hope you enjoyed the chapter; sorry, there wasn't much variation between the Hogwarts stuff and the Snape/Leria stuff. I'll try and mix it up a little more next time. Thanks for the support!_


	8. Thorn In My Pride

_Thanks for your interest in this story everyone, I am adamant I'll get this finished before I start my third year… I need to accomplish SOMETHING over the summer holidays. Hopefully this chapter will give a little more back story… you know me, I love those flashbacks Characters and the like are copyrighted to J.K Rowling. Original characters are credited to sakurazukamori_

.:Chapter 8:.

"Finish the job…"

The point of Sirius's wand dug deeper into Snape's neck as the overwhelming urge to kill the man in front of him engulfed him. Sirius's eyes were wide with anger, the taint of Azkaban exacerbated by the surge of emotion that swept through him. A tense silence passed between the two men before Sirius dropped his wand from Snape's neck.

"If I kill you, I'm no better than you," snarled Sirius, his voice hoarse, "you or your Death Eater friends."

"That's all you ever were," replied Snape casually, but not without a hint of bitterness, "talk… talk, talk, talk; it seems little has changed since you gallivanted around Hogwarts with your little fan club… but now you are all alone, _abandoned_."

"Death would be too good for you," spat Sirius, his face inches away from Snape's, his anger bubbling to the surface. "Too good by far."

Snape allowed a lingering smile to touch his lips as he calmly looked into the grey eyes of Sirius Black.

"Have you finished?" asked Snape rhetorically, his voice holding an acerbic edge. "Unless you have something of importance to say, I suggest you be on your way back to Grimmauld Place. You are somewhat of a liability outside of it. Dumbledore must have lost his faculties to have sent you to 'watch' me."

Sirius cursed explicitly under his breath as he turned away from his Hogwarts enemy.

"Dumbledore might believe you were lured under false pretences, but that doesn't wash with me, _Snivellus,_" murmured Sirius, his back still turned. "I think you orchestrated the whole thing… you and Lucius Malfoy."

"That's a dangerous presumption, Black," retorted Snape, touching the burning sensation Sirius's wand left on his neck. "One I would not make lightly if I were you. It would seem you know more about the situation than you let on."

Sirius Black turned around with that self-same look of sheer loathing on his features.

"It's all just a little too convenient," said Sirius, the anger in his voice barely concealed. "You disappear from Hogwarts and a new Chamber of Secrets is found in Hogwarts. Yes, _very_ convenient indeed."

"What did you say?" Snape's face looked visibly drawn at the mention of the Chamber of Secrets.

"Oh, I'm sure you know all about it already," replied Sirius scathingly. "You being a _spy_ and privy to the Dark Lord's darkest secrets. Who knows? You might even have had a hand in locating it. I bet the Dark Lord was most pleased with you. Yes, how is the Mark these days, Snape?"

"I don't know what you are talking about," lied Snape through gritted teeth.

"Of course you don't, Snivellus," jeered Sirius. "You never were quite sharp on the uptake, were you?"

Snape scowled visibly at Sirius's last taunt… he had had just about enough of the animagus's underhand comments and observations. He cast a glance back to the house; there was no movement in the kitchen… Snape could only assume Leria had retired to bed. His face softened unintentionally as he thought about her; Sirius too was looking towards the house, noticing the look on the Potions master's face.

"Think you stand a chance with a woman like that?" scoffed Sirius, capitalising on Snape's uncharacteristic softening.

"Once again your presumptions are ill-founded and completely false," replied Snape coolly, the impenetrable mask of ice reforming. "She is nothing."

"Oh, I'm not so sure, Snivellus," smiled Sirius icily. "It was quite a touching display earlier… unless of course I'm making one of those _ill-founded_ presumptions." Sirius smiled smugly, but a serious look soon crossed his features as he thought on Leria. "Striking resemblance…" His words were muttered more to himself than the wizard opposite him.

"All mudbloods look the same to me," retorted Snape, his eyes surveying the other wizard keenly.

"Say that word once more and I'll gladly become a murderer," snarled Sirius, clenching his fists at his sides. "Mark my words…"

"Yes, might as well start living up to that reputation, Black," smiled Snape enticingly. "Such a shame you lack the courage of your convictions."

Something snapped in Sirius and the next thing he knew he had knocked Severus Snape to the floor, his knuckles tingling from the punch he had dealt to Snape's cheek. The Potions master gingerly brought his fingertips to the side of his mouth – there was already a reddening that would no doubt become a bruise by morning. Tucking his wand into his robes, Sirius gave Snape a withering look.

"The longer you stay here, the more danger you put her in," said Sirius, his voice dangerously cold, his face drawn with an unspoken fury. "_That_ was Dumbledore's message… now, get up."

Sirius last words were more like a command than anything else; whether out of defiance or inability, Snape remained on the floor, his back propped against one of the trees.

"I did not realise just how much the role of an errand boy suited you, Black," smarmed Snape, his tongue still sharp even though it felt ten times too big for his mouth.

"You flatter me, but I'm afraid that can't be true. Do you know why?" retorted Sirius, his voice drenched with acerbic malice. "Because there is already one who plays that role to perfection… _Snivellus._"

Sirius offered Severus one last contemptuous glare before he metamorphosed into the huge black dog, Padfoot, and trotted off into the forest, his gentle steps fading away leaving Snape to seethe over Sirius's remark alone, the moon rising higher in the sky.

"_Come on Severus," drawled a blonde haired youth, a look of intense boredom on his face. "You've been at that assignment all week."_

_Severus looked up at the young wizard; Percival Nott had an annoying habit of interrupting him when he was making a breakthrough. He obviously did not realise how important N.E.W.Ts actually were… Severus Snape shot the youth a tired look as if he were fed up with Nott's presence._

"_Don't you have better things to do with your time than pestering me, Nott?" asked Severus, his tone lazy. "I'm not coming to Hogsmeade and that's final."_

"_I don't get you," sighed Nott, shouldering his satchel. "Well, your loss."_

_Severus waved the young wizard from the dormitory, shaking his head before continuing with his assignment. However, when he saw that he was now the only one in the dormitory, he looked about him before pulling something out of his trunk. It looked like a ledger, a commonplace book - the pages were marked with precise lines of scratchy script... Taking a quill, Severus dipped it into his ink point and began making additions to the ledger._

"_June 12th: More rumours of His whereabouts… News from Durmstrang is that he is currently in Romania. No further news from LM or AD. More Marks have been seen above remote villages on the Romanian border."_

"_June 15th : Have received word from IK, there is a confirmed sighting of the Dark Lord in Romania. It is said he travels with a snake, but that has not been confirmed. It will only be a matter of time before he makes his presence known…"_

_A knock on the door caused the youth to spin around, his hand slamming the ledger shut as he did. Muttering a secrecy spell underneath his breath, his dark eyes remained on the door._

"_Severus? It's me," came a soft voice. "Can I come in?"_

"_Regulus," said Severus, more to himself than the wizard behind the door. "Yes, come in."_

_The heavy door opened and inside stepped Regulus Black, he was both similar and different to his brother, Sirius. Unlike Sirius, Regulus lacked a certain charismatic charm that marked his brother's character, however, similarly to Sirius, Regulus was blessed with a rather handsome countenance. The same grey eyes and dark hair adorned the youth, but there was something cold about Regulus, contrastingly different to the fieriness of his brother._

"_You're not coming to Hogsmeade?" asked Regulus, sitting on one of the beds._

"_How many people do I have to say this to? No," replied Severus exasperatedly. "Until you sit your N.E.W.Ts, Regulus, you will not understand."_

_Regulus emitted a disgruntled sigh._

"_You know you'll get Outstandings in everything," reasoned Regulus. "What will a few hours matter? Come on. I hear Evan Rosier is at the Hogs Head today."_

"_Rosier?" remarked Severus, his interest peaked._

"_Think he means to rally support, you know?" said the young Black, his voice little more than a whisper._

_Severus had never really got to know Evan Rosier when he was at Hogwarts – he was very much in with the Lestranges and Lucius Malfoy, although there had been some intense rivalry between the two. It was said that Evan Rosier had actually met the Dark Lord… but whether that was true or not was a different matter._

"_Maybe a few hours," said Severus, rising from his chair._

_Regulus smiled, his pearly white teeth showing as he did so._

"_Well then, let's get to it," replied Regulus, jumping to his feet._

_Hogsmeade was bustling with both students and residents alike; the generic chit-chat seemed to be a cover for the silent whispers that permeated the village… the hushed name of Voldemort seemed to be on everyone's lips as dark clouds blackened the sky. Severus felt himself look up subconsciously – it looked as if a storm were brewing._

"_Merlin, Regulus, how many times do I have to tell you not to hang around with him!" came a snarled remark. "He's scum!"_

_Severus turned around to see the lithe form of Sirius Black who was looking curtly at Regulus. Next to Sirius stood his best friend, James Potter, and behind them, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew. Lupin looked exceedingly gaunt, as if he had not slept in days. Pettigrew's chubby face surveyed Severus with interest, whilst both James and Sirius had looks of pure loathing on their faces._

"_Leave off, Sirius," replied Regulus, shaking his head. "I really don't know how you can lecture_ me_ on the company _I _keep."_

_Regulus looked pointedly at the three Gryffindors that stood near his older brother._

"_You might be my brother, but say something like that again and I'll-,"_

"_You'll do what, Black," retorted Snape, standing at Regulus's side._

"_Well well, if it isn't Snivellus himself," jeered James, folding his arms across his chest._

"_I want you to leave my brother alone," said Sirius, wasting no time as he grabbed Snape by the front of his robes and held him fast. "You hear me?"_

"_Sirius," warned Lupin, a frown on his brow. "Just leave him. It isn't worth it."_

"_Yes it is, Remus. I won't let him turn my brother into one of _them,_" retorted Sirius, his eyes locked with Snape's._

"_I think that's your brother's choice to make," replied Snape, "don't you?"_

"_Not with you smarming up to him, filling his head with lies," snapped Sirius, his grey eyes blazing with hatred._

"_Lies?" said Snape, an eyebrow arched questioningly. "No, I'm merely laying down the facts. Perhaps you'd care to hear them?"_

"_How about you shove them where the sun doesn't shine?" retorted James, his words accompanied by the high-pitched snigger of Peter Pettigrew._

"_Look, just get lost," snarled Regulus uncharacteristically, shoving his brother off Severus. "There's a reason you're not a part of the family anymore. You should be the one staying away from me… traitor."_

_Sirius's eyes widened slightly when he heard the words that spilt from his brother's mouth, however, he soon redeemed his composure._

"_Whatever," replied Sirius, a barely concealed anger marking his words, "but don't expect me to play big brother when you get in too deep."_

"_You're no brother of mine," spat Regulus, his voice saturated with venom and resentment._

_Sirius opened his mouth to throw back a retort, but Lupin placed a hand on his shoulder._

"_Let him go," said Lupin._

_Regulus merely glared at Sirius and James before he walked off, Severus looked at the two wizards with the utmost loathing before he too began to walk away. Running a hand carelessly through his hair, James looked over at Sirius._

"_Want to see something funny?" asked James, a mischievous glint in his eyes._

"_Humour me," replied Sirius, his tone deadpan and somewhat defeated._

"_OI, SNIVELLUS!" shouted James, his wand already in his hand... "CAN YOU TANGO?"_

_Severus turned around, but before he could ascertain why, his legs were jerking about underneath him in an uncontrollable fashion. He could hear the chuckles of both Black and Potter as Sirius congratulated his friend on casting a superb _Tarantallegra _spell. A flash of black rushed past Snape, making a beeline for Sirius… Regulus had his wand in front of him, his eyes flashing angrily._

"_Cruci-!"_

"_PROTEGO!" shouted James, flinging himself in front of Sirius, his voice drowning out Regulus's as the Cruciatus curse harmlessly dissipated against the Shield charm._

"_What in Merlin's name was that, Regulus!" spat Sirius, his question rhetorical… he knew his brother had just used an Unforgivable Curse._

"_Something Bella taught me," retorted Regulus, his breathing coming in ragged breaths. "She said it would come in handy against blood traitors."_

"_That was an Unforgivable Curse, Regulus," said Lupin, his voice soft, but not without warning – a prefect's warning. "You could face expulsion. You know the rules."_

"_Think I care?" rejoined Regulus. The young Black had seemingly changed into a completely different person within a matter of seconds._

"_I say expel the little toerag," snapped James, eyeing his best friend's younger brother angrily. "He's a lost cause."_

_Sirius looked at his brother mercilessly, before shaking his head. It was too late for him… perhaps it always had been too late for him, or perhaps Sirius had not got there in time to save him…_

"_Come on," said Sirius, gesturing to Lupin and James. "Let's go."_

_Lupin muttered the counter-curse to James' exceptional _Tarantallegra_ spell before joining his friends. Severus collapsed to the ground, his legs burning with excess acid. Regulus was soon at his side, pulling him back up to a standing position; the two Slytherins eyed the Gryffindor trio suspiciously._

"_Next time I see him," whispered Regulus menacingly, his eyes boring into the back of his brother's head, "he's dead… I promise." _

Snape felt his eyes snap open as he woke with a start from the rather vivid dream. The muscles in his legs burnt just as they had done on that day all those years ago. He looked around him and saw that he was in Leria's living room, faint streams of sunlight seeping through the blinds. _Just a dream… seeing Sirius reminded you of him,_ concluded Snape, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing. Seeing Sirius had indeed evoked memories that Severus would rather not have to think about, although he could not deny that Dumbledore's warning was not prudent. _I cannot stay here much longer… I cannot endanger her, he will find me… he always does._

"This is so pointless," sighed Ron, resting his head on his arms and breathing deeply. "We've spent hours in here and there's nothing."

"Well, it's going to take more than a few hours to look through every _Daily Prophet_ article, Ronald," replied Hermione, rolling her eyes. "Honestly…"

Harry had never studied _Daily Prophet _articles so intently in his life, his eyes were beginning to feel the strain from looking at the small print for so long. He was both physically and also mentally exhausted… the countless articles pertaining to Sirius, Peter Pettigrew and his parents drained Harry as he saw their faces looking back at him, unrelenting. Hermione had tried to undertake the reading of those particular articles, but Harry had stopped her telling her that he was more than okay to search through them. Now, he was not too sure…

"Perhaps Ron's right," conceded Harry, taking of his glasses and rubbing his eyes. "We should take a break."

"Thought you'd never say, mate," replied Ron, evidently relieved.

"You two go on ahead," said Hermione, not bothering to take her eyes from the paper in front of her. "I can probably work better without you two here anyway."

"Suit yourself," retorted Ron, folding his arms across his chest. "Seems like we're not wanted."

Harry rolled his eyes at Ron and pulled his best friend to his feet.

"We'll see you in a little while, Hermione," said Harry, offering her a smile.

Hermione waved them away with a gesture of her hand which caused Ron's mouth to drop open in exasperation.

"Bloody cheek!" exclaimed Ron, his outburst greeted with a sharp 'ssshh!' from Madame Pince.

Making their way towards the Great Hall, Harry mulled over the lack of information they had dug up on Will Dregdan. He was sure there would be something… _anything_, but no, there had been nothing. Perhaps Hermione was right, maybe they should speak to Dumbledore… or even Professor McGonagall, she might know something. However, before he had a chance to vocalise his thoughts to Ron, a cold voice cut across him.

"Well, well if isn't Boy Wonder and his sidekick, the Weasel," jeered a blonde haired wizard, his words accompanied by the simpering laughter of Pansy Parkinson and Vincent Crabbe.

"Can't think of anything wittier, Malfoy?" replied Harry coolly, he was rather fed up with Malfoy's constant antagonism. "You're getting a bit stale these days, losing your touch."

Ron, who had turned a rather angry shade of crimson at Draco Malfoy's remark, eased up somewhat, a smile touching his lips. Draco, however, looked as if he was about to throw an Unforgivable Curse in Harry's direction.

"Getting a bit big for your boots, aren't you, Potter?" sneered Draco, squaring up to Harry. "Rising above your station?"

"Yeah, what of it?" said Harry, his fists clenching at his sides. "What're you going to do? Teach me a lesson, Malfoy? Last time I checked you weren't a Professor."

Ron let out a snigger at Harry's comment, noticing how pale Draco had grown in the last few minutes.

"You can shut your mouth, Weasley," snapped Draco, rounding on Ron. "Your very presence is an insult. Father was right; you really do live in a hovel, don't you?"

Draco pinched his nose and waved his hand in front of his face as if purging a bad smell. Ron's ears flushed a deep shade of pink as his smile died on his lips. His eyes flashed down to look at his scuffed shoes.

"Get lost," mumbled Ron under his breath.

"Sorry, didn't quite catch that," smirked Draco, folding his arms across his chest. "You know, I think the weasel actually had the audacity to try and talk to me for a second there."

Pansy feigned shock and clapped a hand over her mouth before exploding into laughter.

"He told you to get lost, Malfoy," snarled Harry, taking a step towards Draco, "and now _I'm_ telling you to get lost."

"Think to order me around do you, Potter?" replied Draco dangerously. "I think someone needs to be taught a little respect."

"Go on then," challenged Harry, his eyes boring holes into the wizard in front of him. He felt like a fight and cursing Malfoy would fill that need just fine. "Unless… you're scared?"

Unbeknownst to the two wizards, a rather large crowd had gathered about them, from first years to seventh years, their eyes pealed on the fight that was threatening to break out before them.

"What is going on here!" exclaimed a familiar voice.

Both Harry and Draco looked at the same time to see Professor Minerva McGonagall pushing her way through the spectators, her black robes snapping ominously about her.

"Well!" she added, her steely eyes eyeing the two wizards angrily. "Potter?"

"I think Draco was about to teach me some respect, Professor," replied Harry acerbically, his emerald eyes still fixed on Draco, "until you came along."

"Is this true, Mr. Malfoy?" asked McGonagall, her lips drawn into a grim line.

"We were settling a dispute, Professor," replied Draco lackadaisically.

"Oh it sounds like a little more than a dispute, Mr. Malfoy," said McGonagall, glowering at the young Malfoy heir, "but it would appear that I have broken this _dispute_ up in time. Off with you both… unless you would like to spend detention with me tonight."

Draco stormed past Harry and Ron, deliberately catching Harry's shoulder with his own as he went. Harry turned angrily to look at Draco, but a hand settled on his shoulder, suppressing his anger.

"Let him go, Potter," warned McGonagall, her Scottish accent giving her words even more force.

"Yes, Professor," replied Harry, looking up at her.

"You should be spending more time on your Transfiguration homework instead of rowing with Malfoy, Potter," said McGonagall. "Although if you have time to quarrel with Mr. Malfoy, I expect you have completed it for the lesson tomorrow."

"Yes," lied Harry, in truth he had not started it; his mind had been preoccupied with thoughts of Salazar Slytherin and Will Dregdan.

"You too, Mr. Weasley," said McGonagall.

Ron nodded his head weakly, also realising that he had not started his Transfiguration homework either. McGonagall shot the two boys another one of her curt looks before continuing down the corridor, ushering students to carry on about their business. Harry cursed angrily, causing Ron to flinch slightly.

"It's alright mate," placated Ron. "Malfoy'll get what's coming to him."

"I don't bloody care about Draco Malfoy!" spat Harry, his voice brimming with anger.

Harry ran both of his hands through his hand in exasperation. Letting out a sigh, Harry turned to Ron and shook his head.

"Look, I'm sorry," said Harry apologetically. "Perhaps Hermione's right… perhaps I should write to Sirius."

"Can't do any harm, can it?" replied Ron.

Harry scribed his letter to Sirius with the utmost care making sure that his message was clear, but encrypted enough so as to not draw suspicion as to whom he was corresponding with. Sealing the letter with some wax, Harry made his way up to the Rookery, a strong wind tearing at his robes as he went. Spotting Hedwig, Harry made his way over to her, however just as he was about to fix the letter to her outstretched leg, the sounds of muffled sobbing halted him; it was Cho Chang.

"Here," said Harry, offering her a tissue as he made his presence known.

"Oh, oh," gasped Cho, quite startled by Harry's appearance and hastily wiping the tears from her eyes. "I thought… I thought I was alone."

"It's alright," replied Harry, his words sounding cumbersome on his tongue. "Are you, um… are you alright?"

"I-I'm fine," whispered Cho, her bottom lip trembling. "It's… it's just… it's _difficult_, you know?"

"I know," replied Harry, his eyes focusing on a piece of straw on the floor. It was difficult seeing Cho… she reminded him of everything that happened on the night of Voldemort's return.

A silence descended between the two students before Cho began to speak, her voice little more than a whisper barely audible over the wind outside.

"I'm sorry," she confessed. "I've… I've got no right to cry. You were there… with Cedric, with…_him_. I believe you, believe that he's back, that he killed C-Cedric."

"It's good to know," replied Harry, his voice grave.

"I… I best get back," said Cho, tucking some hair behind her ear.

"Yeah," replied Harry monosyllabically.

"Bye Harry," said Cho before placing a kiss on Harry's cheek. "And… thank you."

Harry softly touched his cheek, his fingertips barely registering the sensation of skin upon skin. He did not know how long he stood there, his mind racing through thoughts, playing out scenes from his life again and again… the mournful hoot of Hedwig detached him from his thoughts.

"I was miles away," said Harry, noticing how his voice was no longer louder than a whisper. "Take this to Sirius, ok?"

Hedwig blinked at him in understanding before spreading her wings and flying away, her snowy white form quickly engulfed into the vast expanse of the darkening horizon.

_Sorry this chapter took so long in coming – real life issues kind of halted my progress on this. I hope you're enjoying it so far – I will try and get back into regular updating. I am still really enjoying writing this fiction, I'm finding the Snape x OC pairing (something I'd never really considered before) very interesting. Feel free to drop me a review – I like to know how I'm doing. Thanks._


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